


Sex on the...

by Missalyssasecret



Series: Not Casual At All [17]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Love, Miscommunication, Porn with Feelings, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2020-07-20 04:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 37,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19985926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missalyssasecret/pseuds/Missalyssasecret
Summary: What, exactly was Roy’s reaction when Danny told him about the latest project?Emotional exploration of Danny’s conflicting desires, wherein they finally have to discuss the thing they don’t talk about.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So...I’ve spent some time thinking about how Roy might have reacted / felt about Danny doing Ex on the —-. It’s not a clear cut answer because feelings are involved, but it is very that.
> 
> I’m not exactly sure when Adore’s agent would have likely gotten the call, but since her touring schedule would have to be set around it, I’d hazard to guess it was late last year or very early this year.
> 
> For those on AQ, I'm borrowing this prompt that someone sent in for bitchcraftt because it feels a lot more meaningful if the two of them already have an intimate relationship.

They’re lying in bed naked when Danny brings it up, Roy reading and Danny curled up at his side. He’s using one hand to turn the pages of the book propped on his knees, the other idly tracing circles on Danny’s shoulder with the occasional detour upwards to tangle in his hair.

Normally, the touches would have him well on the way to drowsing, if not nodding off entirely. Instead, he’s staring at the phone in his hand without actually looking at anything on it. Roy noticed the screen darken over ten minutes ago. He hadn’t pointed it out, just continued as if nothing was any different than usual, waiting for Danny to finish turning over whatever it was that had him preoccupied. It’s not patience so much as knowing that pressing him won’t get an answer on demand, would delay the process even longer. So he keeps his mouth shut, keeps on turning pages even though most of his attention is focused on Danny’s restless fidgeting.

He mentally reviews their evening - out to see the girls at Micky’s, drinks at the bar with the queens afterwards, and coming back home. They’d silently agreed on heading to bed, taking turns rinsing off the glitter and smoke clinging to their skin. Roy hadn’t bothered getting dressed again after his shower, slipping between the crisp sheets. Sleeping (in the most literal sense) with Danny had given him an appreciation for sleeping in the nude. Ease of initiating sex aside, foregoing his usual T-shirt and boxers meant that there were no barriers between the comfort of skin on skin.

Danny hadn’t deepened the casual kiss they shared when he climbed into bed, just snuggled into his side. Roy had waited for his hand to start wandering south, but it remained on his chest, wandering over the planes of muscle. It wasn’t unusual, but he’d been half expecting that Danny might want a handjob to finish burning off the energy of their night out.

"B?"

Roy closes his book at the sound of Danny's voice. It's hesitant and quiet, two things that other people wouldn't associate with Adore, and by extension, Danny. 

"Hmmm?"

He keeps up the soothing touches, rubbing the back of his neck while Danny frowns down at his knees. The pinprick flickers of static where his hair clings to Roy's hand crackle softly.

"They want me to go on TV again."

Well. That wasn't quite what he expected.

"Okay....who's they?"

For once he hasn't the faintest idea what sort of project has been offered. Adore's done a few interviews, but they've mostly been web-based or for foreign broadcasting agencies. An icy claw of fear squeezes his heart as he considers one possible option.

"You got the call for All Stars 5." His voice is flat, expressionless.

Danny drops his phone onto Roy's stomach, cursing and apologizing as it bounces dangerously close to his balls.

"-what? No! Fuck that, no it's not Ru again."

Roy lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, lightheaded with relief. That's his worst fear, Danny being swept back into the well-oiled Drag Race machine, in danger of being portrayed badly for ratings. It's all too easy to sway the opinions of the fans, many of whom aren't even old enough to drive. He's well aware that it was happening on their season as well, but there's something about All Stars that's so manipulative that it makes his stomach clench to think of Adore facing it down again, away from where Bianca can help keep her head clear.

Away from where Roy can protect him.

"Talk to me pussyface. What's going on?"

"Like. Umm..." 

He gently prises the phone from Danny's grasp, replacing it with his hand and squeezing back just as tightly in response. 

There's been multiple things on Danny's mind lately, feelings broadcast in the land of social media. Roy does his best to stay out of it unless Bianca's acerbic humor is helpful, restricting his comments to defending her when needed and making sure that everyone knows when she has an event coming up. Danny's still struggling with some of the old demons, and if he had to guess, it's likely the impending approach of his thirtieth birthday in a few months. 

In hindsight, turning thirty was far less deserving of the fanfare. At the time, it felt like some sort of major milestone, but Roy knows better. Thirty, thirty-five, forty...they're just numbers. He's never been one with a grand plan for his life, letting his talent and dedication to his craft lead him where it would. For Danny though, it's probably a sobering reality of having to reconcile what he wanted for himself and what's actually on the horizon, a harsh reminder of time passing. He's so adrift in indecision that sometimes it takes everything Roy has not to interfere and set things to rights. Danny doesn't deserve yet another person trying to fit him into any sort of box no matter how loving and well-intentioned. He has to figure it out for himself, but watching it is far from easy.

Danny’s voice, small and defeated, snaps him out of his thoughts.

"What's wrong with me?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a rough one. Be warned.

"Wait...what?"

"What's wrong with me? Why can't I just...find people to date?"

"Oooookay."

The statement doesn't even seem tangentially related to what they were discussing moments ago, but if it's connected in Danny's head then he needs to figure out why. Danny's complained of different issues in the group chat more than once, a hookup that seemed like it could be more ending disastrously, excitement about second dates that evaporates into disappointment when the person no shows. For someone whose attitude is a giant 'fuck you' to the world, he's still yearning for some sort of magical moment. 

Roy's tried to talk to him about it before. Danny falls in love so quickly with someone new, intense and passionate, but unable to understand that relationships have to start with a common foundation. Nothing he says though, seems to make a difference the next time he has his heart broken after pinning it on too fragile of a thing.

"Who," he asks far too calmly, "said that?"

"No one, I mean...like, I just feel wrong? Like there's gotta be something broken in me because I can never make it work."

" 'Dore-"

"I don't get it B, people seem cool and shit, and then they get weird or they don't call or they just want to be all fan-y. They don't see me or they don't stay and it doesn't make any sense."

"What," he carefully sets the book in his lap aside, "is it that you want? You have to know that first before you go looking."

Danny stares down at their joined hands, the matching black nails - he'd had to borrow Bianca's polish for Adore - on their fingers twined together.

"I just..I don't know. I mean I do, except, I don't."

"Well, that's very on brand." 

His voice is gentle, teasing, and any other night Danny would probably have pinched him and given him crap for using the phrase that Bianca hates. Instead, he squeezes his eyes shut and presses his face to Roy's chest.

"Hey," his hug goes unanswered, and Roy frowns. "It's not a bad thing."

"ItiswhenIwannabeinlove."

The words are mumbled into his bare skin, and it takes a moment for him to parse them.

"...you don't get to pick when that happens. And if you go looking for it, it's never gonna be right."

Danny's expression is defeated when he raises his head. 

"It's...what's wrong with me? I want to be in a relationship but I know it's gonna get fucked up and it'll probably be my fault. 'M tired of hookups- okay not tired, shit, I don't know what. Just, no one wants to talk or cares."

"I care."

He keeps his voice quiet, that thing they don't normally ever talk about trying to push to the surface. 

"I know." Danny looks like he's on the verge of angry tears. "But you're not- fuck."

Roy draws him up until they're face to face, leans their foreheads together and sighs, closing his eyes for a moment to consider. 

"Shhh," he murmurs, "I know what you meant."

He knows he's more than just another body passing through Danny's bed, a means to an end when the end is an orgasm. That's never been in question, or the fact that they love each other deeply. Fucking your best friend, Roy muses, means you could go from eating takeout on a Thursday night (“Thai?” “Sure, I’ll order.”) to trading blowjobs (“What? Spicy food makes me horny.” “Everything makes you horny. Brush your teeth if you want to get anywhere near my dick.”) and back to lounging on the couch watching YouTube videos before dinner got cold. The same matter of fact conversation for everything else expanded to include sex (“Wanna fuck later?” “Not tonight, unless you’re bottoming.”), and it was very...that. He's tried to be pragmatic about it, content to have Danny when and in whatever capacity he could. Roy's done with relationships, unwilling to put himself through the emotional roller coaster complicated by the fact that he's away from home for most of the year. 

They're not in that sort of a relationship by any means, but they're also not _not_ in some sort of...something. It's complicated and simple and everything in between, and Roy isn't sure he could even articulate his own feelings on the subject. To say that they fucked every time they were together would be a stretch. There were plenty of nights when Danny stayed over that they shared the bed without anything more than cuddling. Occasions when one or the other - Roy, just the once - was pursuing someone else that sex was off the table. Their mutual understanding meant Danny enjoyed hookups when the mood struck without feeling guilty, and Roy no longer went to bed alone with a hole in his heart. 

He sits up, pulling Danny along with him. Most of their important conversations happen side by side under the covers, but this one feels like it's going to need something else.

"What's that got to do with TV?"

Danny's eyes skate away, focused somewhere near his ear. 

"Ummm. So."

Roy rearranges the pillows to prop himself up, waiting as Danny nestles back against his side. His hand resumes its stroking in Danny's hair, the motion so unconscious that he sometimes starts before he's even fully awake if Danny's sleeping on his shoulder. 

"Just tell me, pussyface."

"...it's Kristian."

The petting stops, Roy's hand frozen hovering over Danny's head. There's a sharp flare of pain in his thigh, and he realizes that he's squeezing it with his free hand so hard that his knuckles have gone white.

What in the living hell did Danny's ex have to do with anything? Piecing him back together after the text breakup had been a storm of hurt feelings, Danny so angry at their situation but also never having real closure. A fucking text message. Danny had to know it would happen eventually - there was no way they could physically be together with an ocean between them - but it didn't make it any easier. He'd spent a weekend in Roy's tiny New York apartment, two steps away from blackout drunk the entire time, pouring his broken heart out to Roy and Shane both. Roy eventually hid Danny's phone so he would stop reading their texts and trying to book a plane ticket with a thankfully complete lack of fine motor skills. It's not a weekend he wants to repeat. 

If his ex has been fucking with Danny's feelings lately, Roy is going to make good on his years-old threat to take Shane and Greg (and probably half of the other queens they know) on a trans-Pacific flight with him to explain a few things in person.

"There's this show," Danny mumbles against his neck. There's no way that he missed Roy tensing or the hand now clenched into a fist in his lap. "Ummm. It's, like, Ex on the..."

Roy's too focused on breathing calmly to appreciate the play on words.

"It's uhhh, this show where-"

"I know what it is," he mutters tightly. "Fucking reality bullshit. Dumbass thing for straight people to do." 

Danny flinches.

"You...please say you didn't agree to go on it. With him of all people!"

"B-"

Roy grits his teeth and blows out a long breath. He's not angry with Danny (he is a little, because he clearly hasn't thought it through), more his manager for not hanging up on whoever made the offer. And for his ex to accept after all of this time when he'd supposedly moved on? It smacks of attention whoring, and not any actual thought for Danny's fragile heart.

“You think it’s a bad idea and I shouldn’t do it.”

”I don’t think it’s the best idea, no.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Danny hiding his face against Roy's neck. When he breaks the silence, his voice is quiet and completely neutral.

"Do you want to get back together with him?"

"I don't know. Maybe? Yes? I don't fucking know."

"Then why say yes?"

" 'cuz, fuck, he's the only boyfriend I've ever had and I want someone to love me!"

The stricken look on Danny's face when he realizes the implications of what he just said wars with the iron band squeezing his chest, and Roy's heart breaks just a little for the both of them. 

"Fuck, I didn't mean it like that! I'm....B, shit, I'm sorry I can't do any of this right and I-"

Danny's rapid-fire, anguished apology is cut short by Roy pressing their lips together. It's not quite a kiss, or perhaps more accurately, it's not only a kiss. Roy always kisses with his eyes open, but right now he's trying to feel, not to see. His nose presses against Danny's cheek, sharing each breath, hand resting lightly on Danny's shoulder, nothing keeping him immobile save his own volition. Their lips move against each other's slowly in unceasing contact, sliding warm and damp together. It's chaste, close-mouthed, and devastatingly intimate. 

"It's different. With you. I don't...you're," Danny's voice is barely more than a whisper against his mouth, "we're not, can't, it's..."

Roy doesn't particularly want to pull back, to break the bubble of their own making, where everything is so clear and easy and doesn't need explanation. 

He doesn't want to have to talk about this, but they need to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promise this isn't going to be pure angst. Like "Let Go, I've Got You", it's at the depths of emotional pain that these two can say what they really mean. Or try to.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next part isn't ready yet, but here's the lead up to the collision course ahead. There's a lot of things going on at once, and I want to be sure that they're all addressed properly given the context.

"Sometimes," Danny whispers, "I wanna meet someone and know...I wanna date and go out and fall in love with someone who's gonna love me back because they like me and all the shit I do even though I'm so fucked up."

His voice is shaky, and he shivers at the draft sneaking past the curtains. Normally Danny is Roy’s own space heater on cold nights, running hot to his own cooler core temperature. If he’s paradoxically feeling the cold, then they’re going to be in for a long night. Roy reaches down to grab the edge of the duvet, kicked off when the conversation started, tugging it up over their shoulders. He gathers Danny closer, rests his cheek on a feverishly hot forehead as if he could protect him from the intangible if they just hold on to each other hard enough. 

Roy knows exactly what he means. He also knows that it's exactly what is so next to impossible to find given Adore's level of fame. Even long-term married couples and boyfriends who traveled with didn't guarantee any level of normalcy, particularly with someone outside the world of drag. It's something he's resolved not to expect for himself, not since the last time what felt like the right person fell into his life. That hadn't worked out for various reasons that he's made peace with (mostly), too many demands and expectations. The sheer volume of engagements doesn't leave enough time for himself, much less a relationship. (He could say no to things, could probably make as much time as he wanted, but the reasons behind that are something to face down another day.) 

In the end, it was - not easier or simpler per se - familiar and safe to always keep falling back into bed with Danny without trying to define things. It's far more fulfilling than any romantic relationship has ever been, but it's not fair to expect it to be the same for Danny. 

"I-"

The sheets rustle as Danny slides his legs up, squeezing Roy's right thigh between his knees.

"B, this...you...how are you okay with..what- the stuff I do? All of it. Why?"

This is every conversation he doesn't want to have separately, much less in this context, and it's going to be complicated. He takes a deep breath and holds it, focusing on the feeling of Danny's heartbeat against his side, then slowly exhales and firms his resolve. 

He's Bianca fucking-Del Rio who would tear down anything in Adore Delano's way without a second thought, but more importantly, he's Roy and Danny needs him. 

They're going to figure this out. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another brief snippet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in posting. I had a direction, and Roy and Danny have thoroughly messed with my plan for this fic. There's a lot of scattered pieces right now, but I promise I'm still working on it. Not 100% happy with the flow in this passage.

"Back up for a minute? I can't answer the second part without the first."

He's stalling for time, and he can't tell if Danny realizes it. Wonders if Danny understands what he's not saying.

“Sometimes, it’s like...like I’m stuck. Nothing feels right. I’m trying to get stuff for the tour, but I just wanna stay in bed and smoke.”

”Anxiety bad?”

Sometimes Roy wishes people had a better understanding of how much it really took out of Danny to be the person they all wanted him to be. He tries to not be one of them.

”Yeah. But- that’s not just the thing. It doesn’t feel like I’m ready to do stuff. And I have to hide or make it go away. My energy is all fucked up, I can’t focus. And...like, what if I'm not, can't move on because of ...him?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny's partying probably isn't helping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been editing and re-writing the next four chapters because this one is reaching places that the other fics haven't explored before. I think it's heading in the right direction.

“You’re young.” 

Roy holds up a hand to forestall Danny’s protest. 

“What I mean is...fuck, you don’t need me to tell you that it’ll get better as you get older. That’s not it. Just, it’s okay to feel like you don’t know what you want or where you’re going as long as you keep moving. And I'm saying this because I've felt it too. But, in my experience, if you break up with someone it's for a reason, even if you don't know exactly what it is. Chasing after it, usually hurts you more.”

”It feels like it’s all been on hold.” 

"What-"

Danny thumps his forehead against Roy's shoulder with a frustrated growl. 

"Not just that. Everything. I'm stuck B, no idea what the fuck I'm doing. Every day is just the same, I write, I go out, get drunk, come home, and wake up alone."

He rests his cheek on Danny's head, thinking hard about a response that doesn't sound patronizing. Unfortunately, what comes out of his mouth next is a little too pointed. 

"Thanks, it's good to know I don't count."

Danny cringes. 

"I didn't say that. Just...when you're not here, I-"

"I know. Just...yeah."

The partying is definitely a symptom, not the problem itself. On its own, it’s a part of their lives, the drinking and dancing and everything that goes along with it. Seeing what breaks through though, the anger that’s probably based on fear instead of anything else, it’s not the right outlet for him. 

“I’m not saying don’t party. Fuck, sometimes you gotta let go. But it’ll only let you get away for a while. You’re not going to like this, and it’s going to sound ironic coming from me, but getting drunk all the time isn’t going to fix that.”

Roy is one hundred percent aware of the fact that he himself drinks more than he should. He's also aware that even blackout drunk he retains enough self-control not to do anything in public that he'll regret in the morning. Bianca Del Rio may appear in someone's Instagram video slurring out an insult, but it's nothing that she doesn't already say on stage. Half the problem seems to be social media, in Danny's case.

”I like to- that’s not...“

He can feel Danny struggle not to become defensive. Knows if anyone else tried to have this conversation, they’d be shut down. Knows that he might be one of the only people who could address it with him. Danny’s swinging between bottling it all up while sober and losing control when he’s not. And they both know it.

"Everyone sees me as Adore, they want me to be crazy and when I'm not they act like there's something wrong with me."

"Other people can fuck off and mind their own business."

It's his standard answer, and of course it's easier for him to say when he's had decades before the internet popped up and suddenly made every person a critic. He's unapologetically who he is, but Danny feels unfinished, so much potential to achieve more than he could have dreamed, and the same potential to destroy himself.

"You have to learn to trust yourself," he murmurs into Danny's hair. "I'm not talking about impulses. I'm talking about knowing who you are and not letting anyone - including your manager, your friends, or anyone else - define you. And that includes me. I'm not saying that I know what's best for you, because that's bullshit. You know. You just have to decide how to do it."

Danny's hand is fisted in the covers over his chest, and Roy winces at the contained emotion. Sighing, he shifts Danny off his shoulder and rolls on his side to face him, needing to see what he can't always hear in his voice. 

"That's not what this is really about though, is it?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst, argument, and something else entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've tried to write in the utter confusion and chaos that happens when two people who care about each other this much come up against something neither of them can truly explain. It's messy, but it feels right (wrong, that is). This has taken weeks to get out because I hate the thought of them fighting.

Danny chews his lip, shaking his head. He's not crying, but his face is flushed and lips bitten red, conflicted distress clearly written on his face.

"I thought you were enjoying fucking around."

It's not a jab or attempt at manipulation; Roy genuinely hasn't heard differently until recently, at least not in a way that seems more than a passing comment.

"I mean, yeah, the sex is fun when it's good. There's a shit ton of hotties, and it's awesome. But, like, a couple hours with someone or even if the stay, they always leave. And it not like I wanna see them again a second time if it's just a fuck."

He nods, keeping his mouth shut and letting Danny talk through it. 

"And every time I think I...like, you know, it's too fucking easy for me to fall in love. I say I do, but I'm scared I don't know what it actually is. Shit, everyone knows...like one night on tour or after fucking someone. And you know what? It never fucking works. Ever. You always tell me why and I never listen because it feels so good, like the best high ever. But they never actually want me. And I want...I dunno, I want something normal. Sometimes."

Self-awareness is generally a good thing, but it sounds like Danny has been in his own head too much. He knows there's moments where Danny expresses a sense of loneliness. Usually he's five drinks in and stumbling around the dance floor when it happens, or it's two in the morning and he wakes Roy up because the hookup was awful. Getting him to spill this level of feelings while sober isn't easy, which means he has to be full to bursting with it. 

"So..." Roy sighs when Danny seems hesitant to continue, "what you've been doing feels good, but you want something else and feel weird about wanting it?"

He pulls the duvet up a little higher until it's almost covering their heads, creating a pocket of space and shadow where it's just the two of them, warm and secure. Hopefully Danny's going to feel safe enough in here to get it out.

"I need to know what's wrong with me that I can't just be happy."

"Angel..."

"I want to date. I do...like, do I not know how? I just...I wanna belong with someone. People always give up on me. I’m a fucking screw up and don’t even try to say I’m not. I’m gonna be thirty and I’ve had one boyfriend who broke up with me over a fucking text message and I’m just so tired of everything I do never being enough for everyone. Fuck, I want someone to come home to. Someone who just knows me and doesn't care that I'm fucked up and isn't too clingy but is just there when I need them."

That stings, worse than the earlier comment about wanting someone to love him. Roy knows that this is Danny's emotions talking, not his heart, and rationally he's positive that Danny knows how much he loves and cares about him. Knowing that though, doesn't change the fact that it feels like Danny doesn't see him at all. Or the fact that he's not sure why that upsets him so much. He's not supposed to want it any other way, has spent years saying that this works so much better than a conventional relationship.

Something of it must show on his face despite his best efforts to keep his expression calm and receptive, because the flow of words stops.

"B," Danny squeezes his fingers with urgency, "you know...you know you're different, right? This- us."

He summons up what should be a foolproof gently reassuring smile.

"I know."

Roy kisses his cheek and lays back, waiting for Danny to continue. He looks at him oddly for a moment, but it's gone when Roy blinks. 

"So I guess...I guess it's because- because who else is there? If he’s the only one who ever...maybe there’s a reason.”

There it is. Roy closes his eyes for a moment, trying to separate out his kneejerk protective reaction with the facts of the situation. Any way he slices it though, it doesn't feel right. 

"Pussyface, I don't want you to get hurt."

It's far more than that. Danny doesn't need Roy's conflicted thoughts and feelings on top of his own though.

"You're mad at me."

That's not what he was expecting to hear. At all.

"What? I'm not-"

"I felt it."

Danny's more or less pressed against the entire length of his body, ankles entwined and barely an inch between them from the chest down. Roy's a master at keeping his thoughts firmly behind his face and out of his body language, but should have realized that what worked in front of the camera or the audience when he's dressed doesn't translate to their particular brand of personal space. 

"You've never been mad before about guys I might fuck."

"I'm not mad. You can fuck whoever - you know you can. It's not up to me or anyone to say that."

There's something burning in his eyes halfway between confusion and frustration, and Roy isn't sure which one he'd rather it was. Probably neither, because either way calls for him to explain his own odd behavior, and he wants to avoid that at all costs. 

"Then what?"

"I don't like it."

Fuck. That wasn't what he was intending to say, but there's no taking it back. He's so careful not to force his opinions on anyone, particularly Danny, but this is one of the things that tests his limits. Moreso even than the partying and Adore's drug problem, because this involves someone else. Someone he doesn't like (not the real issue) and most definitely doesn't trust.

"Why?"

"Afterwards. Putting you back together. Look, you might not remember much about that weekend-" which at the time seemed like a blessing, "-but Shane and I do. All of it. Seeing what he did to you with a text message, I don't want him anywhere near you in person."

Danny huffs, rolling his eyes and loosing their hands to shove the covers back down, and Roy can tell that he's starting to get defensive about his decision. He's still close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, and the way he's starting to vibrate with tension.

"I'm an adult you know. Like, I think I can handle it with a film crew and other people around. It's not like we're going to be super alone."

He untangles himself from Danny, rolling onto his back and rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes. 

"I told you," Roy struggles to keep his voice even, "I'm not worried about you having sex."

"Then what? Fuck it...I don't get why you're so pissed about it."

Danny's watching him through narrowed eyes, lips set in a pout that screams defensive stubbornness, lower jaw jutting out. The silence strung between them is full of trepidation, and for once he doesn't have a ready answer. In that moment, he's furious with Danny for putting his heart on the line in such a public way; but he's also angry at his own reaction to it. Bianca isn't any help at all right now, the cynical voice in his head torn between the two sets of feelings. 

"...this really isn’t about fucking, is it.”

Despite his expression and body language, Danny’s voice is exhausted, but he sounds like he's trying to make a point. 

”No.”

”You really wouldn’t care if I went out and fucked a hundred other guys?”

Roy's not sure what the point is that he’s aiming for, and he doesn’t like the feeling at all.

”As long as you were being safe? No.”

”You’re not worried about me getting back together with him.”

”Not the way you’re thinking, no.”

"But you won't stop me?"

Sitting up, he stares at the far wall for several breaths. Knows he has to be careful, but also - for the first time in forever - wants to speak without thinking first, pushing carelessly ahead. 

"No."

 _Even though I want to_ hangs unspoken between them. 

"Why won’t you fight for me?”

The words are almost a whisper, strained and brittle. 

"Adore, you know I'll always-"

"Stop pretending you don't understand."

Danny’s brows are drawn together in a fierce frown, lips bitten and face flushed. His red-rimmed eyes bore into Roy, angry and hurt but also pleading. He’s so beautifully alive that it takes his breath away for a moment, forgetting everything else.

”I...” Roy drags a hand through his hair, palm pressed to his temple as if he could block it out. “I don’t, it’s not fair...you’re not, I don’t have the right to-“

“Every time, B. Every fucking time it’s always about me. You act like you don’t deserve to want things, like when shit happens you’re never gonna be the one who asks for help. I can't. I can't do this anymore, not like that.” 

Roy's heart stops, throat closing. 

"What-"

“You’re acting like this is a fucking breakup or some shit, but we’re not...we’ve never...” 

Danny's hand clenches in the sheets, pulling them over his bare lap in a move that is one hundred percent self-protective and hits Roy with the force of a freight train, an icy knife that forces the air from his lungs. In the years they've been friends, been lovers, Danny has never, ever closed himself off from him.

”Like no matter how much I fuck up, you don’t leave. Why don’t you tell me to fuck off, why do you let me hurt you like this?"

He doesn't know when this turned into an argument, only that hearing Danny talk about himself this way is rousing all of his protective instincts as well as something lodged so deep in his chest that it hurts to breathe. He doesn't know how it changed from a disagreement about a business decision into something so personal. 

He doesn't know. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People often write Roy as emotionally detached, but I see it as more of a protective mechanism because of the depth of feeling that exists behind that calm exterior. He's not cold or cruel...he's just very very careful.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented! This is a difficult one to write, and I truly appreciate you taking the time to let me know your thoughts. "Let Go, I've Got You" was complicated for different reasons, but this...whew. It was supposed to be a one-shot of hurt/comfort and gentle humor, believe it or not.

“You think I don’t know you’ve stopped fucking other people?”

Roy feels the blood draining out of his face. It's true: Grindr was a failure because people just wanted to send him Bianca quotes, and while some queens enjoyed their celebrity status, he doesn't want to have to deal with that in bed. Danny had complained often enough of limp dicks when he fucked a fan, so he ought to understand. 

”It’s too much trou-“

He falls silent at Danny's angry snort.

"What are we doing?"

"Right now? Arguing, apparently."

That's Bianca, because Roy's still reeling from the last few minutes. Danny's jumped from a TV show (bad enough) to his ex (a thousand times worse) and straight into whatever _something_ does or doesn't exist between them, and he can't process it. At least, he thinks that's what's happening. 

"Answer me."

"Which question?"

It's pitifully transparent that he's stalling, grasping at the ground as it falls away from beneath him. This isn't the dive into freefall from their first night together, this is tumbling out of control. Out of his control. Roy doesn't get into arguments he doesn't already know the outcome of, always ready to deflect or redirect, at least two steps safely in front of everyone else. Everyone else but Danny, because he's so far inside his wall that he doesn't have any defense against him, has never considered that he might need it.

"I'm not that dumb," Danny spits out, nostrils flaring, "I know you know what I mean."

"I told you, I don't think going on a tv show with-"

"Fuck that, this isn't...it's not it. Why won't you ever tell me what you want?"

They're sitting inches apart on the bed and all he wants to do is reach out and hold him, use touch instead of words because their bodies always understand each other. When Danny's asleep on his shoulder, when it feels like second nature for Bianca to hold out her hand for Adore without looking, it feels right. It's every silent conversation they've ever had. 

"I told you, what you do isn't up to me."

"Fucking bullshit."

"I'm not gonna be the next person who tells you what you should do, and then you fuck yourself over trying to do it! Haven't you heard a damn thing I've said?"

His temper is flaring, and he struggles to reel it back in. He can count the number of times he's actually lost control over the last few years and been genuinely angry with someone he cares about, and it wouldn't use all the fingers on one hand. Right now, when he doesn't even understand why he's this close to letting go, is absolutely not the time for it. 

"What. Are we. Doing."

Roy can't answer that, because he doesn't know.

"I need to know, Willow. You gotta tell me. Otherwise...I can't do this." 

"Isn't it enough?" he whispers, "isn't it good?"

"B..." Danny finally lets go of the sheets and takes his hand, pressing their palms together, "of course it's good. It's the best." 

"But you want more.” 

The words are out before he can stop them, and there’s no going back from there. He sighs, feeling unbearably weary. It's not supposed to be happening like this.

“This isn't...enough.” 

Put that way it sounds harsh, and he holds on as Danny flinches when he speaks. This is completely not the way he wants to approach it - fuck, he doesn’t want to approach it at all.

"Sometimes...,” Danny whispers, “sometimes I think maybe I want it to be."

All of the air is gone from the room when he tries to breathe. Danny closes his eyes, fidgeting with the covers draped over his thighs. When he opens them again, there's a dullness that Roy hasn't seen in them since he came home from All Stars. It digs into his heart, the desire to fix it warring with the fact that he's not sure it can be fixed when there's nothing there to be broken. This is supposed to be the one thing that doesn't need explanation, the one thing in his life that he's content to simply allow to happen without thinking too hard about it. 

“Are you in love with me?”

”Of course I love you, you fucking moron, I can’t believe you have to as-“

Danny cuts him off with a hiss, waving his free hand sharply and squeezing Roy's fingers so hard it hurts.

”I’m not stupid. Answer me.”

There's no room for anything else but honesty.

“No.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay with me. This isn't what it looks like.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words don't matter. Actions do.

Danny freezes, expression blank, and Roy's not sure which answer he thought he was going to hear. Or which one he wanted to hear, and if it's the same one that Roy sometimes thinks it should be.

”No?”

"How could I call this that? It’s not that simple or whatever the fuck straight people think it is. I don’t want another relationship where I have to be jealous or afraid or worry about upsetting someone because they don’t understand me. I’m not doing that again. I'm done with that.”

He's aware of Danny's grip going slack, holds on tighter. 

"Relationships don't work out for me. They never have. I can't...can't give people what they want. What they think they want, not that way. Fucking hell, I spent years trying to make it work. I've learned not to expect it."

"But, what about-"

"You saw what happened."

Carefully, he slides a little closer on the bed, until they're knee to knee. 

“It's so easy for people to say 'oh, we're in love' and make a big deal about it, but saying that doesn't magically make everything better. Doesn't make it work. I'm not going to say that I know what you want, because I don't. Only you do. Just- this...this is so much more. Something better.”

Danny blinks at him, biting his lip. He wants to kiss him. Instead, Roy keeps talking, because now that it's started he has to finish. 

"How many people do you think have my house _and_ my bedroom door key?"

When it's clear he's waiting for an answer, Danny shrugs. 

"You do. Jamie does. And that's fucking it. You know my security code. I don’t even wake up sometimes when you climb in bed. Notice that? And it's not just because I'm passed out drunk,” he continues when Danny opens his mouth; he must have guessed right, because he closes it again. 

"There's a key for you at whatever hotel I'm staying at anywhere in the world."

"I thought-"

"It's not just when you're scheduled to be there. All. The. Time."

Danny's hand is shaking, watching him unblinking and still. So still.

"You know which side of the bed I like. Fuck, you know what I like to do in the damn bed. Before you? I hadn’t bottomed since before I was thirty, and I’ve let you fuck me more than all of my exes ever got to. I’ve asked you to fuck me. And I enjoy it. Did you ever stop to think why that is? I love fucking you, it’s probably the best sex I’ve ever had _because I trust you_. I would miss the fucking hell out of the sex if we stopped, but do you think I’d care as long as I still had this? What we're...whatever the fuck you want to call it.” 

Roy pauses for breath, and Danny’s expression is unreadable. His heart is racing like he’s just run a mile, chest tight. More than anything intimate they’ve ever done, every conversation they’ve had in the dead of night wrapped together in the sheets, he’s laid himself bare and vulnerable. All he can do now is hope that Danny understands from his actions what words couldn't possibly say.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still bumpy. Trying to keep track of all of the elements at play, so please let me know if something doesn't ring true.

He counts to twenty, waiting. 

Thirty. Tries to force his breathing back to normal. 

Forty. Hears the moist snap when Danny opens his mouth, face downturned. 

Fifty. Feels the sigh breathed over his lips when no words come out.

Sixty. His feet are going numb from how tense his legs are, folded underneath his weight. 

Seventy. Stares at the freckles on Danny’s chest as if they were constellations, mapping out his favorite path from collarbone to shoulder.

Eighty. Doesn’t look away when Danny meets his eyes, willing him to understand.

Ninety. Notices the fine lines forming at the corners of his eyes and wishes that they’d crease with laughter, with Danny’s smile.

One hundred.

“I’ve told you to call me, text me, whatever, if you need me,” he starts again, breaking the silence in a gentler tone, “and I mean it. I have always meant it. I don’t care what time it is or where I’m at or who I’m with if you call. As much as I love Courtney and Darienne, or anyone, they all know I’m not gonna pick up if it’s four a.m.”

He’s answered the phone when Danny calls from the deepest sleep. He’s answered in the middle of a conversation with someone else, politely but firmly explaining that he has to take this one and letting them assume it’s his manager or his mother. He’s pulled out of trade to find his phone in the pile of clothes when it’s that ringtone, smiling apologetically and shooing them out. He’s picked up in the middle of a hangover-induced migraine, because Danny was drunk alone in a hotel room and needed to be talked down. 

"So I'm needy. That doesn't-"

"Are you listening to me?" Roy interrupts him quietly, bouncing their joined hands to punctuate the question, "I know plenty of needy people. They have to wait in line like everyone else. You asked what I want. The keys, all of that...I want you to be able to find me no matter where I am." 

Danny makes a helpless gesture, hand fluttering between them. The pins and needles of cutoff circulation in his ankles don’t even register, so unimportant in the face of everything. 

“I don’t...”

“Don’t what?”

He sounds so unnaturally calm to his own ears, even though his throat threatens to close with every word.

“Why do you let me hurt you? And don’t say I don’t because I know I do."

The denial dies on his lips. It's a fair question, and it really does have a simple answer. 

“You don’t mean to.”

Danny pulls his hand back, presses it over his own mouth and swallows hard. 

“You’re doing it again,” he mumbles against his palm, “you’re making it about me. That’s not fair.”

Outside, he can just make out the street noise, voices and cars and all of the sounds of activity that never quite cease. His mind twists sideways briefly, unable to comprehend how people are passing by with no inkling of what’s happening behind the closed shutters. Strangers with their own lives, maybe even fans who could never imagine this conversation happening because they only know Adore and Bianca, because they only think they know Roy and Danny.

“What is it you want me to say? To tell you?" 

"I need to know why." 

There's a pleading note in his voice as it wavers, brittle and hoarse. 

"You...you let me fuck up, let me do stupid shit, and don't even try to tell me that it's not a problem for you. Like, you don't, you're not- but you still. You're still here."

They keep coming back to that. Danny’s not being deliberately obtuse, he’s sure of it, watching his brow knot in a way that looks painful. He's got all of the pieces, but maybe it's that he keeps putting them together the wrong way, trying to make things fit when the edges don't match. Roy could explain for hours, drag out every example he knows, and it might not be enough if Danny can't see what he's never had to say. And he needs him to see. 

"I want to know that whatever decisions you make, they're yours. I want to know that I've listened when you need me to listen, helped where I can, and that I'm not going to give up on you or tell you you're wrong because I disagree. And trust me, it ain't fucking easy to do that. But you deserve it."

"Why?"

"You know why."

"Tell me."

Danny's eyes bore into him and he couldn't lie even if he wanted to. And he never wants to.

"Because I love you. Because I care."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This collision course they're on is going to come to a bang and not a whisper. How are they supposed to fix this if neither of them really knows why they're even arguing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rough waters ahead. I started writing this over two weeks ago, and it's been hell to edit. Hold on tight.

What he just said shouldn't be surprising, even if he doesn't express it that plainly very often. Danny’s brain works differently than anyone else he’s ever met, jumps of logic that make sense to him but Roy can’t track how they ended up here. The internal conflict between wanting no boundaries but also something conventional, he can understand. Wanting to belong, to feel wanted and needed, that’s natural. And this...renewed association with his ex obviously drags up a lot of poorly healed wounds, so the anger and hurt aren’t out of place either. 

"But you- you're not. In lo- If you...how do you not care that I’m whoring around? How can you let me back into your bed and be okay with that?"

He's never seemed insecure about the added complication to their relationship (not A Relationship) either, once they got past the first few times fucking. Looking back, Roy was the one who spent longer worrying about the details, whether Danny was satisfied and happy with the arrangement. What doesn’t fit with everything, is the dogged insistence that he should suddenly be upset by Danny’s appetites when they’ve spent years without it being a problem. Getting off with and caring about someone are two vastly different things. And if Danny is the only one he combines them for, well, that's very much that. 

"Just because we're fucking, I don't have the right to demand that you not do something that doesn't...am I supposed to tell you that you can only have sex with me, even though we’re not even gonna be in the same country together?"

"Why don't you want me to stop? You're not afraid-"

"Do you care about me any less because you've fucked someone else?”

Danny's the one who compared their argument to a breakup, the one who demanded to know whether Roy was in love with him. That's the part that doesn't fit, not when they've never been like that. Not when Danny has actively laughed at the idea of being in a romantic relationship with anyone when it comes up in conversation. Not when he thought they understood each other.

"Of course not."

"Then...?"

”What do I tell everyone then? That oh, by the way I’m fucking Bianca Del Rio and I’ve been fucking her for years but hey, no one knows because it would be _unprofessional_?” 

The last word flies out as if it were filthy, Danny’s anger twisting it into something disgusting. They've taken another dizzying turn, and for a moment it almost comes together - his ex, wanting to date, the crippling self-doubt - but there's still something else that would connect it all, and it doesn't settle right into place.

"That's not it and you know it." 

”Why? Are you embarrassed because I’m such a whore?”

Their conversation-turned-argument has been conducted in whispers and low-voiced, urgent pleas, so Danny's rising volume cuts through the air, disrupting the stillness around them. He's used to his bedroom as a retreat from everything, his bed a sanctuary for them both against the rest of the world, which makes it all the more wrong. 

”Fucking...why would you even ask me that?”

Roy clenches his jaw against the heat rising in his chest. It’s a double punch of hating to hear Danny use such a self-loathing tone and the accusation that’s absolutely untrue. He's been fine knowing that Danny is getting his needs met without feeling guilty about it - sex is sex, and he hasn't developed a lasting emotional attachment to any of the trade passing through. 

"You know why."

"No, I really don't. I don't fucking understand what we're even arguing about here."

"Why can't you- I-" 

“Why do you have to tell anyone anything? Whose business is it what you do?”

”Should I go live and say I’m not allowed to mark you anywhere someone else can see? That you’re fine with making jokes about fucking me because it’s all just fucking hilarious to you? That Court and Darienne only found out because they walked in on you sucking my dick? That you won't even let me kiss you in public?”

The heat of blood rushing into his cheeks stings. They're less than two feet apart on the bed, but it feels so much further. 

"We've been this way for years, what in the hell does it-" 

"If I told people, what's-" 

"Why," he grits out, words clipped and flat, "do you suddenly. Care. What anyone else thinks? Why do you have to tell the world everything?"

"Oh, so now you've got a problem with me-"

“You have to keep some things private! The whole world doesn't need to know everything. What does that leave for you if you don't have any secrets left?”

"You think people haven't already figured it out? How many times you've liked posts about the two of us?" 

They're breathing hard, Danny's face flushed red and the pulse in his throat alarmingly visible. Roy's head is pounding, and why are they even arguing about this?

"Why does it matter so much?"

Silence.

"Because...I- I don't. I need. To know you...us, it's not all just...I want to. Belong. Matter. And if you don't, I. I can't."

"Pussyface," he can feel his own eyes starting to sting, "what are you really asking me for?" 

"I..." Danny deflates, shoulders slumping and eyes sheened with unshed tears, "I don't know." 

“All of it...doesn’t...can’t you see that it matters? You fucking matter to me. I don’t know how else to tell you.”

”It’s not enough.”

”It’s the only thing I can give you.”

”Why? Why can’t you just see that-“

Between one moment and the next, already vulnerable and exposed and raw, the last hold he has on his temper snaps, and he doesn’t try to hold it back.

"Because you deserve everything, Dan! Would you have wanted me to tell you that the only way we could do this,” he waves an angry hand between their naked bodies, “is if we stuck some label on it, put some stupid heart filter on Instagram couple photos, pretended that we were ‘in love’?”

He uses Bianca’s nastiest, most sarcastic voice and fingers curved into air quotes, not caring that anyone outside can probably hear every word. Bianca at her most hateful has nothing on the cocktail of confusion, fear, and pain driving him right now. 

“Do we make people start even more rumors? Should I have gotten jealous every time you made out with some twink at a club or got your dick sucked by a fan? Because if that’s what you want, I sure as fuck am the wrong person to give it to you.”

Danny's been growing steadily paler under his flushed cheeks with every word. Suddenly, he explodes into motion, throwing back the covers and rolling off the bed. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he’s kicking the fallen sheet out of the way with a vicious snarl. He doesn’t have to decide whether to follow, because Danny’s first step towards the door tangles his ankle in those same bedclothes, arresting his movement even as the force of his momentum is still carrying him forward. Roy barely has time to blink before he goes down hard, hitting the dresser with a sickening thud and a sharp cry as he lands on the hardwood floor.

“Fuck- “ 

He throws himself off the bed, argument forgotten as he drops to his knees on the floor and crawls around the end of the boxspring. Danny’s curled into a ball between the bed and dresser, hands covering his face and shaking with pain. Roy reaches out before he can stop himself - would never stop himself even if he thought Danny hated him - gripping his wrists and pulling them gently away from his face. He lets go immediately when Danny recoils, rocking back on his heels, cradling his elbow close to his chest and whimpering softly. 

Helplessness is not something he's terribly familiar with, but tonight is making up for it. As he watches, hands hovering, Danny wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, and Roy’s heart, already pounding in fear, squeezes painfully when it comes away with a red smear. He must have hit his nose on the way down.

“Ado- Dan?”

The sobs grow, more angry and frustrated than anguished. Danny shakes his head violently, hugging himself.

”Danny? Can I touch you?”

He covers his face again, mumbles something against his hands.

“I’m probably the last person you want right now, but I need to know if you’re hurt.”

"Fuck you." 

“Angel?” The endearment is out of his mouth before he even thinks about it, and Danny flinches hard. Fuck.

”Danny-“

”Stop it,” Danny spits the words out between clenched teeth, "No."

”I’m not gonna go away until I know you’re okay. I don’t care if you hate me right now-“

”Fucking-“

”Danny, I-“

Danny sits up and pulls his hands away from his face, clenched in fists.

”Stop calling me that!”

Roy’s aware of his jaw hanging open.

”That’s not my name. Not from you.”

”...Adore.”

Silence falls between them again, every bit of Roy's anger lying on the floor with the discarded sheets. There's a condom wrapper under the bed next to one of Danny's socks, the sight abruptly incongruous not because of his obsessive neatness, but because that intimacy feels so foreign right now.

He takes a deep breath and tries to answer the question that it feels like Danny doesn’t know he’s been asking all night, thinks that maybe this is what he needs to hear. 

"This, us...this is mine. This is ours. The one fucking thing that belongs to me that I don't have to share. This- you have never been just casual to me."

********

Danny freezes. His body is there, he’s still breathing and listening to Roy, but he’s also somewhere else completely.

He can’t think, sitting naked in Roy’s bedroom, surrounded by the soft yellow light. He can’t think when all he sees are their keys and wallets scattered across the dresser. He can’t think when Roy is in front of him and every instinct is screaming that he’s safe, that all he has to do is reach out and touch him to be protected from himself.

“I can’t do this.”

********

“What?”

”This has to stop.”

Roy's heart stops. The room is suddenly freezing cold, his lips and fingers gone to pins and needles. 

“Are you...do you not want to- us, this anymore?”

It’s one of the least coherent things he’s ever said, but he knows Danny understands because all of the color drains out of his face. Roy braces himself for the answer, for a wound that will be worse than bleeding to death. 

“...I...”

Danny turns away, arms folded tight to his chest. Before the motion even registers, Roy sees his own hand reaching out, stopping just short of touching a shaking shoulder. For a moment, Danny sways towards him and he thinks that he’ll turn and take Roy’s hand, that they can hold onto each other and figure this out.

One breath.

Two.

Then he’s up and moving around the room, and Roy’s heart shatters into a thousand pieces when he realizes that Danny’s picking up his scattered clothes and getting dressed. 

“I need to think. I’m sorry.”

It’s the barest whisper, quivering with the sound of unshed tears.

”It’s okay. I understand.”

His voice is flat, expressionless, the reassurance automatic. Danny rounds on him and his eyes have gone a vivid gold, brimming with angry tears.

”No. No, you don’t get to say that! You don’t fucking get to make this about what I want or need. Not this time.”

”What-“

Roy feels like he’s in freefall. This isn't turning out in any way he could have imagined. He couldn't have prepared for this, couldn't think, couldn't plan. He's never been anything but measured and cautious. Except when it comes to Danny.

The displaced air chills him. Danny’s already halfway across the room, and Roy is rooted in place, isn’t sure he could move if the house caught on fire. There’s only one thing he can say, the thing he wishes he’d had the courage to say on the nights he and Danny could have had before this all started. Hopes that it isn't too late now.

“Please don’t go.”

Danny looks down at his hands, refuses to meet his eyes. Maybe it’s better that way. He doesn’t want to see the finality in them, to be reminded of what he’s losing. Part of him knows the feeling doesn't make sense because they're not in a _relationship_ , but his heart feels raw. It was always so good between them, even without trying to make it a commitment of that sort. Roy was satisfied, happy with having Danny’s friendship and love that meant more than romance, with having him in his bed. 

“I’ll be back,” Danny mumbles, sweeping keys and wallet and phone off the dresser. The clatter of metal on wood seems louder than a thunderclap.

Then he’s striding out of the room, and a moment later the front door closes with a quiet click that’s worse than anything forceful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay with me. Danny has never, ever broken a promise to Roy.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because the last chapter wasn't angsty enough...but Roy never commits to anything without his whole heart, and he's not going to let something this important fail.

Roy stands staring blankly into space after the echo fades away. He's naked in the middle of his own bedroom, but for a moment it feels as though it's not his home at all, the space empty and somehow _wrong_ without Danny. All of the air seems to have left the room in his wake, and Roy can't take a deep enough breath no matter how he tries. He sits on the edge of the bed, unable to cry or be angry - not that he's sure which he would be if he weren't too numb to feel anything. The tingling is getting worse in his hands and he rather calmly decides that he’s probably on the verge of panic. 

The sheets shift when he starts to lie down, and he realizes that they still smell like Danny. His first instinct is to curl up in them, wrap them around himself, something he can hold onto and use to hide. He wants so badly to close his eyes and stay there, until he wakes up from the nightmare this night has become. 

He can’t go to the living room because Danny’s backpack is on the couch. 

Can’t hide in the bathroom with Danny’s toothbrush on the counter, his shampoo in the shower, his underwear tossed carelessly over the edge of the tub. 

Can’t take refuge in his sewing room, because the worktable is covered in vintage finds they were sorting through, smiling photos of the two of them together pinned to the wall.

He ends up in the kitchen, facing the seldom used stove. Drinking is his response to celebration, to stress, to sadness. It's ironic, given what he was telling Danny about partying, but he can't think what to do next without it. There’s a bottle of wine on the counter, and he starts to reach for a glass before changing his mind and opening the cabinet to take down a bottle of vodka instead. Roy curses when his hands are shaking so badly that he drops the glass, watching it break on the kitchen floor and wondering if that’s what his heart looks like. Normally he’d mix it - he doesn’t handle shots well, preferring a cocktail or wine to pure liquor - but tonight is anything but normal. That doesn’t seem to matter anyway as he unscrews the lid and drinks straight from the bottle. It’s going to take a while to reach oblivion, no thanks to his high alcohol tolerance. 

Roy slumps into one of the kitchen chairs, considering and dismissing getting dressed. There's no one else to see him, and he's already too frozen to feel cold. He folds his legs up, wraps an arm around his knees and cradles the bottle to his bare chest. 

For a single minute, he stares at nothing and considers if, for the first time in his life, he's willing to give up on something. Considers it in the space between breaths and feels the block of ice surrounding his heart crack open. Lets himself feel the confusion and pain, the helplessness and urge to give in to despair. Counters that with the depth of his love. 

The answer is no.

Earlier, Danny asked why Roy wouldn't fight for him. It's never been in his nature to claim ownership, seeing it as insulting to an equal relationship of any sort, as if Roy didn't feel he could be responsible for his own decisions. Maybe not to anyone else, but Danny belongs to no one but himself. 

He turns to the refrigerator, seeking out one photo among the dozen there, the one taken the night of the crowning. He and Danny are sitting on the edge of the tub, and despite the other people in the room reflected in the window, they're only paying attention to each other. It had started with Danny leaning back on Roy, arms crossed over each other's. Then he'd slid further down until Roy was nearly cradling him on his lap with both arms, holding tight and Roy's cheek pressed to his forehead. The smile on Danny's face is one he's seen in so many settings, but the intimacy captured in that moment, long before they'd become lovers, is more precious than anything he owns. 

Danny left his bag, so it means he'll have to at least come back to collect it. Roy's not sure how long he has to get his thoughts together, but he's going to be ready. He meant what he said about never giving up on him...and that includes holding onto their friendship no matter what else happens between them. Sighing, he takes another burning swallow and forces himself to focus. 

Maybe the fight needs to be telling Danny what he can't seem to be able to say. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where's Danny gone to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name issue two chapters ago? I’ve only ever heard Danny actually use Roy’s name once (referring to telling Courtney to not call them that), and never the reverse. Ergo, even though they do separate the queen from the man, I can’t imagine them addressing each other that way.

Danny walks without any destination, head down and hood pulled up, breath fogging the air around him. He hadn’t been able to quickly find his underwear or socks - he usually just goes into the dresser and takes a pair of Roy’s - and he’s itching for a cigarette, but he left his pack and lighter on the coffee table. All he knew was he had to get away, to move, to think. Had to get away from the sure knowledge that if he let him, Roy would fix this. Had to escape the fear that maybe this time, he'd finally pushed too far.

He has his keys and phone, could go anywhere, but he doesn’t walk home. His feet have carried him to an empty passage between two buildings where the streetlight is burned out. Normally, common sense - or Roy - would keep him from even thinking about stopping in a darkened alley alone at three in the morning. Right then though, the shadows are comforting instead of menacing, as if he could disappear in them and shut everything else out. (It's not the pocket of quiet under the covers next to Roy, safe and warm.)

Leaning on the rough brick of the wall, he forces himself to breathe. His head is spinning, throbbing, too full. His stomach is twisted into a knot, chest aching. His elbow hurts when he crosses his arms, and he can still taste blood from hitting his nose on the dresser.

He pulls his phone from the pocket of the hoodie, zipping it higher against the chill of the night and realizing that the too-loose black shirt he grabbed is Roy's. There's no text, no missed call; he half-expected (hoped?) to see a message from the contact marked "Willow", and isn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved.

Danny slides down the wall slowly until he’s sitting on the pavement, arms around his knees tucked up to his chest. 

He doesn’t know that a few blocks away, Roy is doing the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Danny works through his feelings and tries to make sense of the one thing he doesn't really understand: himself.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny’s as confused as we are. Cue introspection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the short update! Vacation = less writing time

Tonight wasn’t supposed to be anything out of the ordinary.He didn’t count on starting an argument over...everything.

Danny thumps his head back on the brick wall, using the uncomfortable knock to focus.He’s by turns self-conscious and deliberately in denial of his own feelings and actions.It means that sometimes he spends time focused inward, frustrated by the inability to consistently examine things.That’s one place his friends help, when he’s willing to talk to them.Sometimes it’s easier to take out his phone and start a livestream, feels paradoxically safer to speak to hundreds of strangers, than to initiate a conversation.

Roy has been his confidant, even more than his mom or John or Chris, the one he goes to when he can’t figure something out.Danny had wanted to tell him, try to talk through his conflicted feelings. 

He’s not sure why instead of Roy doing as he’s always done - give his honest opinion and let Danny make the final decision - he wanted something else tonight. 

That’s not completely true.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting in short snippets as I get them edited, because there are entire chapters I'm sitting on until they read "right". Hoping that this works for people - let me know if I should wait and make longer updates?

The uneven texture of the brick pulls at his hair as he shifts, the minor discomfort sending a bolt of acute unhappiness lancing through his chest.Before it all started coming down, he’d been curled warm against Roy’s side, listening to the crisp rustle of pages, leaning into the hand stroking his hair while he turned things over. He wishes he could take it all back, say it again differently, take away the look of something too close to heartbreak in those expressive eyes.

It's his fault.

Danny tries to start at the beginning, tracing where it all went wrong (Did it go wrong? Was it anyone's fault?).

He thinks about how it was being with Kristian, the incandescent joy that everyone could see radiating from him when they were together.Thinks about every moment feeling charged with electric desire, energy ramping higher and burning brighter when they were together.Thinks about the intense looks and the magnetic pull on his chest, how his lips curved into a special smile.Thinks about being held tightly, possessed and  _belonging_ _._

No one else has ever made him feel that way, no matter how he tries.Dating doesn’t seem to work when the people he finds don’t understand all of the Danny when Adore takes her makeup off.He’s tried over and over, bingeing on the thrill of being desired, simultaneously buoyed and repelled by the near-worship he sees in their eyes.The sex is wild and fun, but that’s all it is, and he’s fine with that.

Except...that’s not true either. Not completely.

He's been searching for that connection again, the burning hot desire, the sheer  _want._ There was the yearning and loneliness that he wouldn't want to go through again, but those don't seem to matter as much. He would be foolish to not reach for that again, to re-create those few magical months. At least, that's what it feels like he wants, when he turns inward and carefully unfolds the thin layers of torn fishnets and guitar chords and rebellious attitude folded around his heart. 

Sometimes he thinks that being "normal" might not be so bad, if it means he has something to lean on. If it means he can lay down the burden of still loving him, of never having a chance to properly end things. If it means he doesn't have to let go of it.

Beyond the issue with his ex being involved - not a minor one, but nowhere near as important - he’s not even sure why he said all of those things the way he did.Danny’s never cared about being anything conventional, fitting into anyone else’s standards. Except sometimes he does, and it doesn't make any sense, and he's been tearing himself apart inside trying to re-balance.

Of course instead of being able to lay that out logically - because that’s not how his brain will ever work - he’d depended on Roy’s near-impossible ability to make sense of his rambling. The stillness of Roy's bed should have been the safe place it always was; and it was, until he broke it with six words.

_ Why won't you fight for me?  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and watched Adore singing ‘Stay’ in Australia when she was with him, and did my best to describe how seeing them together made me feel.


	15. Chapter 15

They were always heading for a collision when something confronted their friends-with-far-more-than-benefits behavior, but he was legitimately blindsided by the rush of emotions that came pouring out of his own mouth. He replays how the careless words hit Roy like a physical blow, the carefully neutral expression even as his body went rigid. How he watched him pretending that he was fine, even as Danny blurted out that he wanted to be loved as if Roy didn’t exist at all. 

As if the way he loved Danny didn’t count.

It doesn’t make any sense. He’s not the master planner that Roy is, but he hadn’t the slightest intention of turning it into a fight about the two of them. He hates when others interfere, but paradoxically wanted so badly for Roy to react without thinking, to snap out an emotionally charged response. Roy’s deliberately calm demeanor not only touched a nerve but set off a white hot flash of anger. Anger at himself for not being able to find the words he needed, for asking for more when he already has so much. Anger at Roy for always being so willing to sacrifice his own wants and needs the moment he thought they ran counter to anything of Danny’s, for letting Danny force an answer out of him. 

Danny may be a little slow to pick up on things, might be tactless on occasion, but he knows Roy better than himself. He also knows that Roy would throw himself between Danny and harm without a second thought, wouldn’t hesitate to give him anything he needed that was in his power to offer. He can read Roy like a book, Bianca’s face on or not, knows how he’ll react to any situation, relies on that steadiness. 

Of course Roy loves him, and he loves him back fiercely.That’s a simple fact, never in question and one of the things he relies on to stay sane on his worst days. What he isn’t completely sure of, is if Roy feels the same aching twist of  _want_ , the thread of  _need_ woven through the fabric of their relationship, the same way Danny does. It’s always been left unsaid as yet another part of the thing that is Adore-and-Bianca, is Roy-and-Danny.  Laughter and curses and drag usually cover it until it’s nearly invisible.It only surfaces in the stolen moments between breaths, physically biting his tongue to hold the words back because he’s afraid of spoiling everything. 

Sometimes it’s so clear, on mornings when he doesn’t know Danny’s awake yet, his expression unguarded and full of tenderness, the feeling of  _something_ where skin meets skin.It vanishes the moment he can no longer feign sleep, melts into something just as affectionate but less vulnerable. 

Sometimes it’s there when their eyes meet while laughing together, there and gone between one blink and the next. 

Sometimes it’s so obvious everyone else can see it when Bianca squeezes Adore’s hand in front of a thousand people, the way their bodies angle together in photos even when their arms are around other people.

Roy is so damn practical, firmly grounded with no desire for a stereotypical romance. And yet.

He thinks about how Roy always left a key for him at the front desk even before they were fucking. Thinks about what he said tonight, that Danny will always be able to find him.

He thinks about how Bianca sets them up together in the dressing room, runs interference when Adore’s anxiety gets the best of her and she needs a minute before facing their fellow queens.How Bianca always magically has spare foundation and liners that perfectly match Adore’s colors but she never sees her use on her own face.How she still laces Adore into her corset when they’re doing a show together, the feeling of her fingers running along the edge to make sure it isn’t too tight as much a part of getting ready as painting her face. How she’s the first one to hug Adore when she comes off stage, waiting in the wings with a smile.

He remembers how Bianca defended Adore to Michelle, to anyone else who didn’t ‘get’ her style of drag.How she wasn’t nasty or angry, patiently explaining the need for respect as if she couldn’t imagine why others didn’t understand it already.How she shut down anyone being genuinely mean with a single look.

He thinks about how easy it was once they first started fucking, bodies fitting together like they’d been lovers before.How Roy has catalogued every touch that makes Danny’s body thrum with pleasure, every place to rub when he’s exhausted and needs to relax.How he feels safe sharing his most private fantasies, lets Roy do things that he would never completely trust anyone else for, and gets off on being taken care of.How he knows he'll never hurt him, doesn't worry about ever telling him to stop.How he never ever pushes Danny if he doesn’t want to do something sexually, never gets annoyed if the answer is no.

He thinks about Roy offering himself their first night as lovers, fighting his own instincts to let Danny have control.How he held him while he broke down and cried out the anguish.How after they were done talking, Roy still wanted him. How he seemed incredulous that Danny could want him in return.

He remembers how they made love, the aching tenderness.

He replays tonight’s conversation (argument?), remembers Roy telling him from the start years ago that he wasn’t asking for monogamy.How Danny himself has always laughed at the notion of only fucking one person for the rest of his life.

He thinks about Roy encouraging him to burn off his lust with trade, seemingly unbothered that Danny is whoring his way around the world.How he isn’t upset by hearing details, teases him about it.How he still opens his arms when Danny climbs into his bed after fucking some anonymous twink at the club, complaining only if he smells or tastes like someone else; even then, it’s just to tell him to shower or brush his teeth.

He thinks about the way Roy never pushes him for answers when he’s not ready, not until tonight. How he somehow  always makes time for him, never truly losing his temper or being judgmental. He’s steady, so steady. Unshakable faith in Danny, more than he could ever have in himself. There’s no one in the world he trusts more.

He thinks about Roy telling him that he matters. 

He thinks about saying that he can’t do it that way anymore, unable to keep hurting them both in that room. Knowing that he had to get away to clear his head. Danny’s demand to know if Roy was in love with him wasn’t fair, not when he was completely unsure which answer he really wanted to hear. Not when he already knows.

“ _Isn’t it enough?”_ Roy pleaded with him. 

He can’t stop seeing the look on Roy’s face, not anger but resignation and bleak loss. 

Roy’s not perfect, no one is.He drinks too much (there’s irony in Danny thinking so), is married to working, doesn’t know how to slow down and relax.His obsessive attention to detail and order drives Danny mad.He’s too loud, too opinionated, too willing to tell Danny the honest truth. He gives more than he takes, lets others wring him dry of energy.

Roy isn’t an inferno of passion; he’s passionate, but in a way that’s more steady warmth than leaping flames. 

Roy isn’t excitement from the thrill of not knowing; he’s familiar and comfortable with exploring their desires together.

Roy isn’t a pull that Danny is helpless to resist; he’s there beside him, welcoming but never demanding.Always a choice, and always the one Danny comes back to.

He considers how their arrangement has always been more than just a convenience, and while he’s never quite understood what it is, it never seemed to matter. How he could be sharing his body with a different stranger every night on the road, but his heart is never actually available.

The wind picks up, rounding the corner and sending empty wrappers skittering across the pavement, into Danny’s alley retreat. He shivers, shoulders rising as he sinks further down until his nose is almost touching the zipper. The fabric is warm against his chin, and the next inhale carries with it not just the smell of detergent but also something that leaves him reeling, something that says  _safe_ and  _mine_.

And then then it hits him.

It’s been staring him in the face this whole time, with Roy’s soft eyes and the way his body curls into Danny’s when he’s asleep.It’s the lazy afternoons spent in bed, sometimes fucking, talking about whatever needs to be said. It’s sitting in the sewing room watching those capable hands work magic on Bianca’s wardrobe, vintage shopping together and seeing Roy’s basket of miscellaneous items bought for their fabric. It’s the way Roy watches him sing, whether he’s painted as Adore or just himself, drunk or sober. 

Maybe it’s not exciting, maybe he’s looking for something that couldn’t and shouldn’t be there, not when they know each other so well.

Lust is easy, not something reserved for one person moreso than others. But when he’s lying awake alone in a hotel room somewhere else in the world, it’s not just fucking that he craves.Sometimes what he wants is to fall asleep beside someone who means something to him, to wake up being held.

(" _This, us...this is mine. This is ours. The one fucking thing that belongs to me that I don't have to share. This- you have never been just casual to me.")_

Roy isn’t Kristian. Could never be, and really, Danny doesn’t want him to be. 

It’s so simple.

Climbing to his feet, Danny shrugs off the shadows and turns his feet for home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's taken over a month to compose this chapter, mostly because every time I think the flow is right, the "Danny" voice suggests something else, to either make it more clear or more complicated. I’m my own worst critic and wish it had come out neater, but then I realize that feelings aren’t always logical or organized.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thing is, Roy doesn't know any other way to say it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The style here is choppier than usual, which I hope conveys exactly how unsettled Roy really is.

A glance at the clock shows forty minutes gone by, and he's not really any closer to knowing what to say. The vodka has gone warm from his body heat - and part of him wonders that he isn't frozen through - and he makes a face as the next mouthful sears over his tongue. Bianca's silent in his head, nothing glib or quick to say. Instead, he's left facing the fact that they both said things that can't be taken back - some out of anger and defense, but all of them honest. 

"She's coming back."

Roy repeats the words to himself, barely above a whisper. It's not so much reassurance as his own defiant protest against the threat of despair. His self-control may be legendary to friends and fans alike, but very few of even the closest ever witness what it takes to maintain it. Just his nearest and dearest - including Danny. 

He resists the urge to check on him, to text or call. He might not trust Adore to pack all of her drag or an extra pair of pantyhose, but he trusts Danny to keep his promises. Has to.

The chair has warmed under his weight, table edge biting into his shins. While the fetal position screams defensiveness, it's probably also a good idea physically because he still feels one step away from shaking apart. At least the panic is subsiding, thanks to a healthy (?) dose of Grey Goose. 

Perhaps more accurately, thanks to the immovable force that is Roy's ability to love. 

Love. It's a deceptively simple word, one that people like to load up with so much meaning. They go on at length about it, use it to justify and hurt, use it to heal. For Roy, it's something that's less about what others might think and more a fundamental part of who he is. "I love you" is easily said and always meant, no matter the context. He loves his family, Lola and her mom, Jamie for putting up with following him all over the globe, even the producers at World of Wonder who've supported Bianca's rise from Drag Race to the world stage. He loves Kugie's ridiculously funny scripts, Jinkx's good-natured bitchiness, Bunny's ability to make him laugh at the most inappropriate things. 

He's well aware that for all Danny scoffs at relationships and happily discusses every detail of his sex life openly, there's a part lingering under the surface that's still looking for Love with a capital L. It might be easy to stay too busy to consider how he fits into it, but he's made time to think about it. Sober, even, and logically. Maybe it wasn't best done with Danny's breath on his skin and his weight on Roy's chest, but still. 

For himself, trying to date and have a boyfriend (or whatever quantity thereof that people used to update their relationship status) doesn't work. What does work is working, and cherishing the relationships he has with his friends. More to the point, it's been years of the two of them being touchstones in each other's lives, offering support and criticism and the kind of companionship via text message that stretches around the world. When they're in the same place physically, it also means sleeping better with Danny than he ever does alone and sometimes (often) having sex. 

Roy's pragmatic. He knows Danny's got a more than healthy sex drive, wouldn't dream of demanding exclusivity. Doesn't want it. He's never been bothered by who else Danny is fucking as long as he's safe, because none of that matters. 

Maybe it's not that, not really though. Asking himself what it all means comes up with an incomplete picture, and there's nothing Roy hates more than not being able to understand. They've talked through and around things on a few occasions, enough that he thought they understood each other, what they were and weren't asking for. Up until a couple of hours ago, it wouldn't have crossed his mind that they even could argue over it. If Danny says that it's not enough, it's either that it truly isn't (and Roy hopes with everything left in his heart that it's not this) or their understanding isn't as complete as he thought it was. He thought that action spoke more loudly than words ever could, realized tonight that perhaps leaving things unspoken isn't doing them what they both deserve. 

Except, how does he capture the feeling of rightness and content when Danny's falling asleep beside him? How much brighter a room is when it's filled with his laughter? 

Danny matters because he's what was missing in Roy's life before loaning a worn-in corset. He loves Danny for being himself, even the parts that he doesn't. If Adore is adorable, then Danny is completely lovable, messiness and all. 

Danny's flighty and smokes too much weed, can't seem to keep his clothes on when he takes a selfie, never thinks before he speaks or acts. He's moody, easy to anger, indecisive. He takes too many chances, doesn't plan, doesn't think about consequences. He's also loyal, insightful beyond the played-up obliviousness, and so damn alive. His raw talent is second only to his ability to pull people into his orbit, makes them unable to look away. What would be so dangerous in anyone else is transformed by the sheer guilelessness accompanying everything he does. 

Roy would move heaven and earth for him if he could, if he thought that it wouldn't be a disservice to Danny's talents and the need to learn through experience. 

He hears a key turn in the lock, but it might be his imagination. Same with the footsteps behind him, the familiar scuffing tread of well worn shoes.

Except when he turns to look, Danny is standing at the edge of the tile, waiting.

“B.”

He sets down the bottle but misses the table, the remainder of the vodka splashing over his bare legs and onto the floor. Neither of them look as the bottle clangs loudly but doesn't break, rolling to a stop against the counter. As the echo dies down, he goes to stand, cursing when numb feet refuse to hold his weight and he joins the bottle on the tiles. 

Danny's so still, and he can't quite read what that stillness holds. The flushed cheeks speak to the brisk night, but his arms are lax at his sides, not crossed in defense or cold. Looking up at him, Roy can only hold his breath and hope.

Blinking slowly, Danny takes the three steps between them, drops down to sit beside him, close but not touching. 

Roy waits.

"You never asked if I was in love with you.”

Danny's voice is quiet, but not defeated. 

_Suck it up_ , the Bianca part of his brain prods, _what's the worst answer he could give?_

”Are you?”

”No.”

A wave of bone-deep weariness sweeps over Roy, and for a moment his vision wavers. Danny wouldn't be that cruel, would he? 

”Well, there you fucking g-“

”Fucking shut up and listen to me for once, B, just shut up and let me say this!”

Stunned into silence, Roy freezes, back ramrod straight and knees aching where they’re pressed onto the floor.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to start clearing up the misunderstandings. Hold on for an emotional ride.

Danny's exclamation rings through the empty house as they stare at each other. Roy knows his jaw is open, interrupted in the act of starting to speak even as he still isn't sure he has the right words to tell him what he means. For his part, Danny looks equal measures terrified and determined - not his signature stubbornness, but something much more resolute. 

The shock wears off, and Roy finds his voice again.

"That's not fair."

Danny blinks, shoulders sloping. He's breathing hard, eyes wide with the shaky sort of confidence that comes from profound realization.

"I...I know. You do, I just...I need to say this before I- I need you to hear me."

Exhaling slowly, Roy nods. He owes Danny at least this much. 

The spilled vodka is cool on his thigh, wisping away to nothing, and he shivers involuntarily. Danny's focus abruptly shifts, intensity softening with concern, and a moment later unzips his hoodie to hand it over wordlessly. Roy offers the ghost of a smile as he accepts it, reminded of his own nudity. The fabric is still warm when he slips it on, and he takes comfort in both the realization that Danny's wearing his shirt and that the hoodie smells like them both.

In front of him, Danny takes a deep breath. He's fidgeting with the hem of the shirt, tattooed fingers twisting the fabric. The behavior is so Danny, not the unnaturally subdued feeling from before, that Roy relaxes just a little. 

”Earlier. When you asked if I wanted to...stop, you didn’t mean the sex. Or not just the sex. You thought I was leaving us, even though there isn’t an us.”

He pauses, almost unblinking, long enough that Roy understands that he's waiting for an acknowledgement and nods again. 

"I needed to think. I couldn't. Then. But...B, you gotta know that I'd never walk away from you."

"It felt like it," Roy's voice wavers with the admission, "it...scared me. More than anything. I didn't- don't understand why you were so mad."

Danny's face fills with a pained sort of understanding.

"I don't really either. I mean, I do. But- I figured something out. I think."

It's telling that Roy doesn't even have the smallest urge to tease him for being indecisive.

"Okay."

The fidgeting stills again, Danny's chin coming up in a gesture so vulnerable that Roy feels his heart in his throat. There's moisture shining gold in his eyes, and a tear breaks free as he blinks. A second and third join it, running over his cheeks and dripping off his upturned chin.

"- and I'm scared too. You're always...there. No matter how much I fuck up, and sometimes it's like, I worry that I'll never- never really deserve that cuz no one else does. It's like, I have so much and I know I do, but here-" he points at his chest, "here, doesn't make sense to me." 

"Adore-"

“I don’t want to be in love with you. ‘Cuz that means I’ll fuck it up and lose you. Every time I think I am, it's never real. Never lasts. And-”

He can't stand being this close and unable to touch. This is worse than all of his breakups combined, because they're not breaking up when they were never together. Very slowly, he brushes his fingers over the back of Danny's hand, waiting for rejection. He's not prepared, then, when Danny throws himself at him so forcefully that he ends up sprawled on the floor underneath his weight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter grew around Danny's declaration of not wanting to be in love and asking Roy if he thought he was leaving. So much of this story began as single moments, things said or thought, that weaving the narrative together is what's taking the most time.


	18. Chapter 18

Roy barely has time to blink, arms coming up automatically to receive Danny’s lunge forward even as his brain is still catching up. He topples backward, barely missing hitting his cheek on the table leg. It’s a barely realized reprieve, because his shoulder clips the chair on the way down, and a moment later, the back of his head bounces painfully off the tiles.

The blow isn’t hard enough to do real damage (he hopes), although it knocks his vision askew for a few breaths. Danny’s wrapped around him tightly, and he stiffens when he hears the breathless cry of pain. Loosing his arms, he slides a hand underneath to cradle Roy’s head, expression a study in guilt tinged with worried panic. 

“B? B...c’mon, say something. Please. Fucking- shit, please be okay.”

The juxtaposition of his concern is a mirror image of them earlier, roles reversed. He peers up at Danny’s face while cool fingers pat at his cheek and temple, spies traces of dried blood still lingering under his nose. Roy hadn’t missed the developing purple contusion on his elbow when he took the hoodie off either. 

It’s been a bruising night for both of them, physically and emotionally. 

He realizes that Danny’s been calling his (Bianca’s) name over and over, but it’s so difficult to focus when he’s this exhausted. The warm, familiar weight draped across his body is like a signal to his subconscious, tempting him to close his eyes and sleep. 

“-Roy?” 

That gets his attention. His own given name has never sounded right from Danny’s mouth, and he frowns.

“Adore.”

The frantic tapping on his cheek stops.

“Thank fuck- are you okay?”

Roy considers his position, flat out on the kitchen floor with Danny clinging to him like a lifeline. It’s an uncomfortably hard surface, the cold seeping into his lower body. His head aches a little from the impact, but he’s not dizzy or nauseous. And the small hurt is a welcome distraction from everything else tonight. 

“Physically? Sure.”

Danny deflates in relief, burying his face in Roy’s neck. 

“M’sorry. S’my fault.”

The words are muffled by fabric, but he gets the gist of it.

”Hey.”

Roy pushes up until he succeeds in peeling Danny off his chest far enough to make eye contact. Tears are still smeared over his cheeks, but at least he’s not crying anymore. They’re both so emotionally wrung out, Roy isn’t sure if he should suggest they put a hold on it and see how they feel on a few hours of sleep. 

In the end, his better judgment wins out: they need to resolve this before going to bed. He hopes it will still be together.

”I’m fine. Really. So...please- just, we’re already having a fucked up night, you don’t need to...yeah.”

Definitely not the clearest statement, but some of the tension leaves Danny’s spine.

”How are you not mad at me?”

”For...? You weren’t planning on knocking me out, were you?”

For once, the statement is delivered without any trace of sarcasm, in sober query. He knows the answer to far more than just that question, but Danny needs to realize it himself.

“That’s not what I meant.”

”I know. But,” he sighs, “can we not do this on the floor?”

In response, Danny rolls off to the side, and Roy immediately misses his warmth. He lets Danny pull him to sit up, then climbs back onto the chair behind him. His bare ass is even colder than before, but it’s hardly worth noticing. 

Danny settles on the closest chair, sniffles once and drags the back of his hand across his nose. He’s barefoot inside his shoes, Roy notices, thinks about the sock under the bed and the look in his eyes when he wouldn’t call him Adore. Thinks about what Danny said right before he reached for his hand.

The best, most precious things are always worth fighting for, and Danny needs to know that. 

This could take a while.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny is caught between guilt, relief, and fear, but the only way forward is to face it. He owes Roy that much.

Danny drops onto a chair, forces himself not to slide it closer like he normally would. All he seems to be capable of tonight is hurting Roy, physically and emotionally, and a little space between them shouldn't feel as wide as it does.

The kitchen smells like alcohol and he can't get the image of what he saw when he first walked in out of his head. He didn't know what he would be walking back into, only that he couldn't run away. Part of him had wondered if Roy would deadbolt the door against him, if he would return to find all of his things on the doorstep and the light off. Roy's been upset with him in the past, but even at their worst (rare) disagreements, never wanted him to leave. Maybe that's just his own guilt talking, the voice of self-criticism trying to pull him into a spiral of doubt by imagining things completely out of character. 

Of all the things he thought he might encounter, he hadn't expected to find Roy downing vodka straight from the bottle, not bothering to dress against the chilled air as if he didn't care. Drinking yes, that, no. He’d looked so small in front of Danny on the floor moments later, legs folded awkwardly when his feet wouldn’t hold him. Even naked on the cold kitchen tiles, eyes heavy with something that almost looked like hope, Danny couldn't be sure if he would welcome his touch. He’d taken off the hoodie without even thinking, wondered if Roy’s skin was as icy as the mornings he burrowed into Danny's side in search of heat. It took everything in him to fight the instinctive step forward, not to go to Roy and draw him into his arms. Wanted to hold him close until he was warm again, hold on tight and tell him everything, fix the damage he’d caused. He didn’t know if he had the right, not after what they’d said. 

Danny had sat as close as he dared, and nearly fucked it all up with the first thing he said. Of course. 

Words had spilled out, rising from somewhere between his heart and stomach. He didn’t stop to wonder if they made sense, unable to stem the tide once he started, once he was sure he wouldn’t lose the courage to say it all. Started with the look Roy had given him before he left, needing to be certain that he understood Danny wouldn't ever walk away from him unless he asked for it. Tried to say what he felt, but knew he still wasn't doing it right. He was angry with himself for crying (again), because he doesn't want Roy to think that he's manipulating him. He knows Roy knows that, but if tonight has proven anything, it's that he can't take it all for granted.

Roy absolving him of guilt or not, he should have thought about what he was doing when he jumped on him, responding to the permission to touch again without considering anything else. That's who he is, depending on whatever mixture of luck and ability that's carried him this far without thinking of consequences. And regardless of what Roy might say in denial, Danny also owes Bianca for using her force of will and words to bring Adore along with her.

"Adore."

One word, quiet and tired. Tired, but not sad or angry or disappointed. Danny's heart climbs into his throat; it's not 'angel' or 'my love' or even 'pussyface', but it's infinitely better than his name.

He wonders if he'll ever run out of second chances with Roy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for bearing with me while I start other multi-chapter stories and one-shots when I get stuck writing this one. It might take a bit between updates, but I promise this story is going to get a proper ending.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving forward, one step at a time.

“Adore.”

Roy watches as Danny’s focus sharpens, the way his lips (previously pressed tightly together) relax, mouth opening just a little in what looks like relief. He’s not sure why just hearing the name would make such a difference-

Oh.

Danny’s back to fidgeting, this time with the shredded knees of his jeans. He keeps his head down, stubbornly avoiding Roy’s gaze when he ducks closer to catch his eyes. 

Tugging the sweater over his hips against the late night chill, Roy reaches out to still Danny’s restless hands. Unsurprising for two people prone to casual physical contact, they’ve always communicated more with each other through touch. Danny’s long musician’s fingers are sweaty as Roy folds his own around them, squeezing his palms before moving to lace their fingers together. He raises their joined hands to rest on the tabletop, shaking gently until Danny finally looks up.

More than only beautiful, he’s found Danny’s eyes captivating since the first time Adore flashed a suspicious glance at Bianca in the workroom. Not just their color - although the play of copper flecks in a sea of olive green is striking - but the way Danny can’t hide his mood even under makeup and a stubborn expression. Adore’s icy blue contacts are the only thing able to conceal it, something Roy knows from his own deliberate use of them for Bianca.

Bianca had easily read what was behind Adore’s defensive attitude in the Untucked lounge after the acting challenge. The competitor in her coolly analyzed what she found, cataloguing raw talent, undisciplined energy, self-doubt, and a fragile sort of confidence woven in with a constant need to prove herself. Despite the prickly verbal dismissal, Bianca couldn’t shake the understanding that Adore was really her own worst enemy and the instinct to help. (She had been wrong about one thing: for all of her perceptiveness, she couldn’t have known the loyalty of Danny’s heart.)

Years later, he doesn’t need to look to know what Danny’s thinking. He can feel it in his hands, tension in his fingers and fingertips pressed flat to Roy’s knuckles. Danny’s hands say he’s afraid Roy will pull away, clinging to him with a desperate fervency. 

”Why-“ he shakes his head, tries again. “I’m sorry.”

”...for what?”

While he may not have to look, he wants to. Tonight, he hopes Danny will see what he needs in his own eyes.

“Not using your name. Using it. Fuck- you know what I mean.”

Danny’s fighting himself to say something, telegraphed in the way he’s swallowing as if to keep the words in before they’re ready. Patience is a virtue attained through years of struggle though, and Roy firmly clamps down on his instinct to fill the silence with talk.

At last, Danny licks dry lips and speaks, quiet and urgent and raw.

“I thought maybe, like I’d fucked it up for real tonight. And I _can’t_ B, need you. f’I didn’t have you, I’d go crazy for real.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter was born from the last quote.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonight felt like it was tearing them apart. Right now though, maybe they can come back together.

"Adore."

Worry at the wetness welling in Danny's eyes lodges in his throat, and he swallows back down the threat of his own tears with every blink. Danny's a creature of emotion, a complicated and contradictory one, and right now it's extremely difficult to not discard everything else and set to comforting him. 

Roy closes his eyes, breathing in and then out. When he opens them again, Danny is still staring at him and he can see him willing Roy to understand. He may be able to read Danny easily, but there's something else, some sort of undercurrent that has to do with whatever Danny decided while he was gone. 

"I need you," Danny repeats, as if that simple statement explained everything.

Maybe it does.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm scared that one day you'll get tired of fixing my sorry ass. And I'll probably deserve it." 

Danny's nails, bitten ragged and uneven, are digging into the backs of Roy's knuckles, but the discomfort is minor. He glances down at their hands, the tattooed MEOW entangled with his own broader fingers with their chipped black polish. It's telling - Danny thinks he's always leaning on Roy, but they're both holding onto each other. 

"Have I asked for my corset back?"

He watches Danny frown at the seeming non sequitur. Using a bundle of fabric and cords as a proxy for - well, everything - shouldn't work. And yet, it does.

"No? ...no." 

"Have you ever seen me lie to someone I care about, about serious stuff?"

"No."

Bianca jokes on a regular basis that she's going to ditch Adore for her antics, but Danny should know that Roy isn't ever going to give up on him. 

Maybe that's part of what they need to talk about.

"Okay. So...tonight was- I don't even know. And you scared me by leaving like that."

Danny shifts, opening his mouth to reply, but Roy shakes his head gently. _Let me finish_ , the gesture says.

"But the more I thought about it, I realized that it's bigger than that. And I am sorry for being a cunt when you were trying to talk to me, because it shouldn't have been about what I was thinking." 

The kitchen window is cracked ever so slightly open for air, and a draft blows in straight across the table. He's been sitting with his legs tucked up for warmth, but sets his feet on the (cold) floor again. They've moved closer, seemingly without even realizing it, and Roy presses the side of their legs together from knee to ankle. Denim slides roughly over his skin, hairs tickling against him through the shredded fabric as he moves in search of heat. Danny startles a little, but a moment later he has Roy's bare leg between his own, feet crossed behind his ankle. 

It's very them. 

"I wouldn't've told you if I didn't wanna know."

"I could have handled that better."

"You don't gotta apologize, you know. I shouldn't have gotten mad at you."

Roy huffs a dry laugh.

"It wasn't exactly the easiest thing to talk about. Isn't. I think we both deserve a little slack." 

Danny shrugs, shirt skewing to the side with the motion. Roy's shirt is still oversized even on his larger frame, and the stretched out neckline shifts most of the way over one shoulder. He can just make out the swirls of ink on the skin, and it reminds him of waking to Danny curled up as small as possible, shoulders scrunched in to fit in the curve of Roy's sleeping body.

"B?"

"Yeah."

"S'it okay if I- I need to tell you something. And it's probably gonna come out wrong, but I...yeah."

The breath catches halfway in, heart hammering. Here it is, and Roy isn't really sure that he's ready. There's things Danny needs to hear from him too, but they can wait. 

"Okay. I'm listening."


	22. Chapter 22

“I wanted you to be jealous.”

Another six words disappear into the air between them, and Roy forgets to breathe completely.

_Why won’t you fight for me?_

_I wanted you to be jealous._

Danny looks completely terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perspective shift next - what's Danny thinking, and why?


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny panics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been working on this chapter for a while, but it keeps growing. I didn’t want to wait another week to update, so this is the first section from Danny’s perspective.

For a moment, he’s overwhelmed by vertigo, slamming his eyes shut as the room spins wildly. He sways sideways on the chair, equilibrium completely lost, convinced he’s drowning in it. Danny's heart is in his throat, and he can’t decide if he’s dizzy from wanting to be sick or with relief. Probably both. He can't breathe, can't see, can't feel-

"Adore?"

A concerned voice overrides the ringing in his ears.

“Adore...I need you to breathe for me.”

Fingers squeeze his fiercely, and his surroundings slam back into focus. With that comes the realization that he’s lightheaded with lack of oxygen, and he forces himself to take a ragged inhale. It hitches on the way, lips tingling, and his chest grows tighter with panic. The next exhale sounds more like a sob.

One of the hands holding his loosens, the heat of Roy’s body moving away. Danny grabs for it blindly, irrationally afraid that Roy's going to leave him to fend for himself. 

Afraid that it's what he deserves. 

There's the sound of a chair being pushed back, and a moment later he feels a knee land on the seat beside him. 

“Breathe, that’s it,” Roy’s voice is closer and he clings to it desperately, letting it wash over him, “in and out, nice and slow.”

His next shuddering inhale brings with it a familiar scent, one that tells his body _safe_ and stops the spiraling panic in its tracks. The hand returns and settles on his upper arm, rubbing warm and firm from shoulder to elbow, grounding him. 

“I-“

"Shhhh. Take your time."

Roy keeps up a steady stream of soothing noises and Danny finally feels his heart slow its frantic rhythm, the choking fear subsiding further with each successive breath. Eyes still closed, he replays the last few minutes in his head. 

Fuck, why did he say that?

That’s...really not the way he intended for it to come out, but when has he ever had the right words at the right time to say what he means? There were at least four other ways he could have approached it, explained how he'd arrived at that conclusion, all of the other thoughts in his head. He’s relied on Roy knowing him better than he knows himself to understand - including occasions when Danny doesn’t really know either. It’s unfair to expect him to do the same for this.

“Adore.”

He opens his eyes to find Roy hovering over him, nearly astride his thigh. The position puzzles him until he realizes that his legs are still locked around Roy's own right leg, effectively preventing him from going anywhere without wrenching himself away. Danny uncrosses his ankles, wincing at the pattern of seams imprinted red on the sides of Roy's knee. He doesn't stand up and move once released though, just shifts his weight until he's no longer balanced precariously on the edge of the chair. 

“Are you okay?”

There’s nothing in his tone to suggest anything other than genuine concern. How Roy is able to set aside the...everything...that's gone on and focus on calming Danny touches that aching place in his chest that he tries so hard not to let take over. The same place that makes him want to speak in the moments they don’t talk, to ask if he feels it too.

He nods, not trusting his voice.

“Come on,” Roy’s tugging on their still joined hands, “I’m freezing my ass off here.”

Danny lets himself be pulled to his feet and led over to the couch, kicking off his shoes and sitting cross-legged on the chaise. Roy sinks down beside him, picking up a black and white throw pillow. Danny holds his breath, waiting to see if he’s going to place it on his lap à la Untucked, tries to gauge how tightly he grips the fabric. He’s relieved when Roy merely sets it further away on the cushions, not using it as a protective barrier. 

"Do you want to keep talking?"

Once again, Roy sounds as if this is any other serious conversation, not one with the potential to destroy them both. Danny nods, firming his resolve. He casts his mind back to the moment in the alley when everything inside grew still, all the pieces fitting together. Somehow, he has to communicate it without making more of a mess than he already has. 

He has to make this right.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't some Hallmark card bullshit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tagline from Adore's video for Bianca's 40th birthday roast. There's a lot of feelings to unpack here, particularly when the head and heart aren't always in sync. Hold on.
> 
> What’s below started as two separate chapters with an interlude from Roy’s perspective. I decided it made more sense to put both of Danny’s together, but please let me know if it’s too much.

"Thank you."

Roy's brow creases in confusion. He'd let go of Danny's hand to move the pillow, and Danny can't help but be bothered by its absence.

"For what?"

"For, you know...me being a bitch and you- you being you. Taking care of me when I'm freaking out."

"I- why wouldn’t-? It doesn’t come with conditions. Doesn't matter if you're being a bitch, fuck if that's a qualification then we're all screwed."

The humor doesn't feel like a deflection, more like a wry commiseration. 

"I'm trying to be serious."

"I know, I know. What I mean is," Roy continues in a softer tone, "is that I'm not gonna stop being here for you, doesn't matter if I'm mad or whatever. Unless you want me to. And I'm not mad."

Danny nods, staring off into the distance over Roy's shoulder for a few breaths. The living room is full of memories, laughing and drinking and that one time years ago when Roy made love to him right on the chaise where they’re sitting now. There's the faint sound of the kitchen clock ticking and the buzz of a lightbulb that Roy keeps swearing if it doesn't stop he's going to trash the whole lamp, but otherwise the air is still and deceptively calm. 

"I...fuck, I never say it right."

The confession tumbles out of his mouth before he can stop it, although the sentiment is hardly anything new. 

"No, but we usually figure it out, don't we?"

Roy isn't exactly smiling, but there's a note of encouragement in the question. He reaches for the blanket folded over the back of the couch to drape it over his lap. The action speaks of physical discomfort from the chilly air rather than any need to place a barrier between them. Danny’s almost forgotten that beneath the hoodie, Roy’s naked without even a pair of boxers between himself and the night.

"Yeah. This isn't- it's not that. It's like...it’s different though.”

_Always different for us._

The almost-smile turns lopsided and a little bit sad. 

He’s got to fix this.

”I...shouldn’t have said it like that. I mean, fuck, I’m not taking it back. The part about, I like...just, please-" Danny rushes ahead, "please, I gotta explain why.”

"Okay."

"-and I know that...wait, you're-?"

Danny pauses in the middle of what was shaping up to be a pushback, not expecting him to agree immediately. 

“I’m listening. I promise.”

Roy’s hand is resting on the arm of the chaise, fingers curled loosely. Danny brushes his own against Roy's wrist in cautious invitation, giving it a careful squeeze. A moment later, he takes Danny's hand, lacing their fingers together until they're palm to palm. 

"I want to tell you you don't have to, that it's all right, but tonight?” He punctuates the question with a a shake of their hands. “Out of anything, we know it's not gonna work to keep not talking about it. And...when you’re done I need to tell you something too."

By themselves, the words should be a red flag, a variant of 'we need to talk'. Except, in Roy's mouth, they don't evoke a sense of foreboding. There's nothing to do then, but get it out and hope he stumbles in the correct direction. Again, not out of the ordinary, but the stakes haven't been as important before. Even the emotionally charged night he spent with Roy after All Stars, feels like it was so much simpler to find the right words and reach a new understanding together.

”Do you...like you wanna go first?”

“It can wait.”

There are a dozen ways Roy holds hands - gripping the fingertips of a fan to direct them for a photo, how Bianca unconsciously reaches for Adore on stage, Roy’s thumb tracing teasing circles on Danny's palm under the table at a bar. He recognizes this for what it is, what Roy does when he's being completely honest and vulnerable, needs that touch to steady himself. 

“All right.”

He starts where he was before, before everything blew up ( _when you abandoned him here,_ the voice of insecurity accuses).

"When I said...yeah. I mean. It feels like I don't deserve you sometimes, and that scares me. Fucking terrifies the shit out of me, that you're going to decide I'm too much trouble and leave. Okay not leave, but not...not like this," he gestures to the air between them, "not let me."

"Let you what?"

"Not let me be a fuck up and still care."

”The choices you make are yours. No, I don’t always agree or like what you do, but it’s not up to me.”

It has to be the fifth time he’s said some variation of the same thing tonight, and he’s sure Roy’s tired of hearing it. But for all of the ways he knows Danny, he still doesn’t understand. 

“I- you don’t...that’s not what I mean.”

”What then?”

Danny has to try twice to get the next question out past a suddenly dry throat.

”When will it be too much?”

“What do you mean?”

Their conversation is hushed, voices quiet. They’re both loud by nature, performative and unabashedly opinionated, but the conversations that matter tend to be held at a much lower volume, or at least they are when they’re sober. He can almost pretend that he and Roy are in bed together anywhere in the world, covers pulled up around them and talking in near-whispers as if the dark meant they couldn’t be loud. Either way, it’s an improvement on raising their voices to each other. 

“The partying, the Insta fuckups, breaking shit when I get mad. All of it. Not being professional. Being a slut and-“ Danny’s eyes sting and he blinks rapidly, angry with himself for descending into tears again.

”Adore...”

Through a haze of tears he refuses to let fall, he meets Roy’s eyes. Their soft amber is muted, but he thinks he sees a glimmer of determination. For what, he’s not sure, because the next time he blinks his vision blurs until Roy is no more than a blurred block of black against grey. 

”I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, B. What I’m supposed to be, why people keep treating me like shit. They don’t want me to be me, but you n’Mom and Court and John...you say you love me just like this.”

Despite his best efforts, a tear breaks free and traces a hot path down his cheek. He sniffles in frustration and goes to dash it away, only to find that Roy’s beaten him to it. A warm thumb swipes just under his eye, followed by a shredded sleeve cuff dabbing at his face.

” ‘course we do. It’s not-“

”I feel so fucking lost.”

His voice is thick, nose stopped up and he knows he’s probably red and swollen in the face already. He’s never been pretty when he cries, and Roy has seen it happen more than most anyone besides his mom. 

“And I, I don’t. Don’t understand what we’re doing. You’re one of my best friends and you _get_ me and you’re just...just you.”

Danny’s vision finally clears enough to find Roy watching him with the sort of compassion that’s as much a part of him as the biting humor. He starts silently praying that he won’t add to the carefully concealed pain hidden in a bitten lip and the faintest frown.

”And you let me say stupid shit, all the time. And tonight, you just let me keep pushing and you always, always just...you were gonna let me. And I know you love me, but fuck, you gotta be sick of putting me back together because I can’t stay fixed.”

Roy’s palm is damp with sweat, but he doesn’t let go of Danny’s hand.

”You make me sound like some kind of saint.”

”Jesus knows, even they’d tell me to fuck off.”

”I lost my temper tonight. I’d say that disqualifies me from being one.”

He snorts at that, forgetting about his stuffed up nose until the air sticks and his ears pop.

”Can I answer some of what you just said? Because I don’t think- I just, yeah.”

Danny nods, intrigue winning out over trepidation.

”So.” 

Roy’s free hand is restless, twisting the fringe on the throw one way and then the other, smoothing it down and coiling it over and over.

“I think we’ve established my opinion on the partying. And yeah, I wish you didn’t go through a phone a month because you get pissed off and smash it.”

”But-“

”I don’t think you’re being unprofessional. If I learned anything from Drag Race, it’s that not everyone has to do things my way. What scares me is how much those strangers out there can fuck up your mood and hurt you because you let them in. They all think you’re Adore and think they’re your friends and can just say whatever. That’s what I don’t like.”

Sniffling, Danny wipes his nose with the back of his hand, huffing when Roy grabs the tissue box off the coffee table and drops it on his lap.

“Thanks.” 

“Make sense?”

”...yeah. I think so. But what about me being a slut?”

”What about it?”

From someone else that would probably have been sarcastic, not Roy’s matter of fact question.

“You...don’t you want me to stop?”

Danny clenches the balled-up tissue, waiting. Roy’s eyes go distant for a moment, then they focus back on him and he can’t look away.

“I never asked you for that.”

”But you’re...you’re doing it for me.”

Roy sighs.

”Not just for you. And it’s not...I’ve done my share of fucking around, got that out of my system. I don’t always want to have sex, and it’s usually a lot more trouble with randoms than just-“ he pauses, sighing again, “than waiting until I’m with you.”

”I thought it meant...that you were-“

”What?”

”I dunno how to say it. Like, you wanted me to. Do that too. S’why you being okay with me whoring around didn’t make sense. Still doesn’t. Not really.”

Roy’s chin jerks up slightly, eyes widening, but Danny’s not sure why he looks like he’s suddenly had a revelation.

"Would you be upset if it was me?"

Danny opens his mouth to reply, then stops. It's a question that deserves serious thought, and he examines it with as much detachment as possible from the current situation. 

At the beginning of things, he'd simply assumed that Roy was hooking up whenever he felt like it. He didn't talk as openly as Danny or Shane about it, but there was no reason to believe that he wasn't getting laid when he wasn't wearing Bianca. Sure, their reunions could be a flurry of pent-up lust, but it never seemed like Roy was as sexually frustrated as Danny got when he was denied the opportunity to get off with someone. Danny had been worried that his own non-monogamous habits would be a deal breaker, and it had taken a few weeks for him to believe that Roy truly didn't mind as long as he was using protection. 

Aside from a half-serious tease about wanting to watch him fuck someone (and not the single time he'd walked in on Roy with trade), Danny really hadn't thought much about it. 

When would Roy have had the opportunity anyway? More often than not they shared a room when traveling together, or ended up sleeping in each other's bed regardless. Early on, when they were still in separate rooms, he'd certainly heard (and jerked off to the memory of overhearing) Roy plowing someone into the mattress on a few occasions. At the time, he’d chalked it up to the same kinky novelty as when he learned what any of his friends sounded like when they came. 

After they became lovers, it was an even better reason to share a bed besides the generous snuggles. Danny's never been kicked out for Roy to fuck someone; he supposes he could have been hooking up when Danny's not in the room, but come to think of it, that rarely happened. If they were out drinking or dancing, Roy remained until Danny declared he was done for the night or took off with trade. He never left early unless he was feeling under the weather. Danny had the suspicion that Roy also tried to stay awake until he crept back into their hotel room to climb in bed beside him anyway. 

In all these years, he's tried not to think too hard about what that might mean. 

Roy's still waiting for an answer, and Danny owes him the truth.

He thinks about Roy having an anonymous hookup, fucking them hard to get off. And that’s the thing - something tells him that’s all it would be. For all that Roy is a generous and considerate lover, he can’t imagine it going beyond that with a stranger. Not with someone who doesn’t really know him. Definitely not bottoming.

"I don't know? Should I- probably not?"

On the other hand, if Roy woke up beside anyone else with his hands in their hair, smiling the way he does when he thinks Danny’s asleep...that would be something else entirely. If he kissed someone else’s inner thighs after cleaning them up. His chest goes tight at the thought of a stranger seeing Roy asleep, hands tucked into his chest and expressive face gone still. 

He can’t tell if that’s the answer Roy was expecting or hoping for. He doesn’t seem to be upset by it, which has to be a good sign.

“Since when were you ever interested in just fucking one person?”

”...I thought maybe, that...fuck. I don’t know how to say it.”

Outside, the wind picks up again, branches whipping against the windows. 

”You asked if I was in love with you.”

Roy’s voice is even, but Danny can see that he’s holding onto a tissue-thin wall of calm. Something about the way his shoulders tense and how he presses his lips together gives it away, although if he didn’t know Roy it would probably be nearly invisible. For his part, Danny’s too emotionally exhausted to be afraid anymore.

“Yeah.”

”I- did you...do you want me to be?”

 _Oh_.

He opens his mouth and closes it again, doesn’t answer the question, because he can’t. Not until he knows if Roy understands.

Roy takes a deep breath.

”Ado-...you know me. When have I ever lied to you?”

Danny shakes his head.

”You don’t.”

”I like fucking you. A whole lot, more than anyone. For all the reasons I said earlier. But if we, if it...I wouldn’t just lose a good fuck. And...I don’t know that I could handle it if it came to that. We’re- you’re too...you matter too much to lose.”

Roy makes no move to guard himself, doesn’t gather the throw in his lap up to his stomach or cross his arms. Instead, he remains open, exposed. Vulnerable. He’s always known it, but in that moment it hits Danny with the force of a tidal wave, the profound gift of trust he’s been given. He’s inside Roy’s formidable defenses. Danny could hurt him, could tear him apart, and Roy would let him. 

Isn’t that gift better, more than anything else he’s ever been given?

”I realized something tonight. And, like, it’s what I’m trying to tell you. I thought about it, about him and about us.”

Danny doesn't use his name, but Roy bites his lip all the same. This thing between them is so fragile right now. One of the few rock-solid things in his life, and it could shatter.

"I wanted you to be jealous because...because I thought it would prove something. I- no one's wanted me the way he did."

”Ado-“

"Being with him felt...I dunno how to say it. Fucking amazing. Every day. I belonged to him. And I'm not gonna lie, I _want_ that, B. I want it so bad, because it felt better than anything."

Roy seems to shrink into himself, not physically shying away but Danny swears he can feel the air chill as he withdraws emotionally. Can see the walls trying and failing to go up, is familiar with the look Roy shares with Bianca. Except, he’s never been on the wrong side of it. 

“B...”

Roy’s eyes skate away, looking anywhere except back at him. He mumbles something that Danny doesn’t catch, but the tone is clear. He thinks Danny is choosing- fuck. 

It’s falling apart in front of him. And yet, Roy hasn’t loosed his hand. If anything, he’s holding it tighter, knuckles gone white. 

”Please, B, you have to understand...” 

As he watches, Roy swallows hard and closes his eyes, doesn’t open them as he speaks. 

“Sure. I do.”

”No, I really think you fucking don’t. I-“

"You...us. We're not that. I can't give you that. We're never gonna be-"

”I know you can’t.”

He tips their foreheads together, feels the way Roy’s breath has gone fast and shallow. 

"-and I don't want it to be that way.”

Roy’s eyes snap open.


	25. Chapter 25

"You're...we're different."

Danny's voice is quiet, so close that Roy feels every word spoken on his lips. 

"I- you know how I fall in love. Fast. And it lasts maybe a month, till they're sick of me or finally start to love me back. I want them, but not when they want me. It's fucked up, n' I know it."

Roy starts to panic when Danny pulls his hand free, slipping away, but he's frozen in place. A moment later, warm hands cup his jaw on either side, fingertips settling on the skin just below his ears. 

"I don't think I've ever been in love with you," Danny continues, "cuz I don't wanna play that game. Not with you."

He's shaking, heart beating too fast, can't seem to catch his breath. Can't look away.

"S'what I've been trying to tell you. Like...can't get enough of the thrill of what's new, whoever it is. It's exciting, and different, but it's never enough. And you let me, and I do, but fuck, B...you keep me sane. Always have. And you never ask for anything back. Even when I'm fucking out of control and messed up. And yeah I'm scared you'll leave, cuz everyone else always does. Like there's a part of me waiting for it, but-" he blinks slowly, nodding to himself, "but you're not gonna because it's not like that. And I need that. I need you."

Everything narrows down to just Danny's face. He's staring at him with conviction, eyes gone dark and wide. 

"That’s what I need you to understand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Danny's explanation about time frames comes from some of the Ex On The -- promo material.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue heavy while Roy gets his thoughts together and his feet back under himself.

Roy is positive he’s never been so unable to find words on a single night before. It's sobering - emotionally, he's not remotely close to drunk - and honestly not what he expected to hear from Danny. It's also not what he feared he might say either.

Danny's still talking, and right now he seems so present, so _here_ that Roy can only wonder at the depth of this epiphany.

“You let me mess up, let me fuck around, and-“ Danny’s lips curve into a tiny, self-deprecating smile completely at odds with his usual pout, “and you still always answer the phone.”

"...I-"

“Like...I realized tonight that, all of that...you’re real. Whatever the fuck this is, whatever else I do, it’s real. So...yeah. I'm sorry it took so fucking long for me to figure that out."

A draft sneaks in under the edge of the blanket, the chill sending a shiver skittering across his skin. Danny picks up on it immediately (no one else is ever that in tune with his body), sitting back and letting his hands fall. He lifts his arm and tilts his head in silent question and Roy nods, waits for him to move around until they’re side by side leaning on the back of the chaise. Danny's arm is warm around his shoulders even through a layer of fleece, and he reclaims Roy's hand once they're settled. 

"I'm sorry I flipped out on you, too."

He's still not sure he completely understands, but it's starting to make sense.

"I was being a cunt, and could have handled that better."

For all his apparent calm, the hand resting on the point of his shoulder belies it, fingers curved inwards and holding on tight. Not possessive, but a refusal to let go easily. Leaning into Danny's side, he swallows against the fluttering dread in his throat and lets himself believe that, just maybe, tonight won't end with loss. 

Danny seems to be waiting for him to say something else. Before he'd come back, Roy had a whole line of argument ready even if it might have been a losing battle, and he turns it over in his mind. It's as good a starting place as any, particularly with what Danny's said moments ago.

“My turn?”

They're not looking at each other directly, but he feels a nod against his hair.

_Tell him._

"I’m scared too, you know.”

”Of what?”

He folds his legs in closer, denim sliding over his knees.

“I’m scared that I’m going to, even with the best intentions, that I’ll end up...making you do something.”

_Real eloquent, queen._

”Huh?”

”Fuck, that didn’t make sense. I meant, that you’ll do something because I want or you think I want it.”

He doesn't have to see Danny's face to know he's frowning, the thumb rubbing idly over his knuckles gone still.

”...but I always like-?”

”Not talking about fucking."

"Oookay?"

This made a lot more sense in his head. Ninety-five percent of the time what he thinks makes it out of his mouth precisely as intended, but the other five percent is a toss up. And that five percent usually involves Danny.

"You ask me what I think and I tell you, but I’m afraid that I’ll- I’m afraid of you trusting me too much.”

Danny shifts, twisting until they're eye to eye.

”What’s that mean? You’d never.”

The fact that he's getting defensive of Roy to himself is strangely encouraging, and if it were any other situation he'd point it out with a cackle at them both. Instead, he runs his free hand through his hair and tries again.

“That’s the thing. You...when you say stuff like tonight, that you need me. You’re not me, and I can only tell you what I know. Saying it out loud- fuck, it makes me sound so self important.”

”Just tell me.”

”I’m afraid you’ll listen to me and do whatever it is when you shouldn’t, because I made the decision for you.”

”B...”

“It’s fucked up because it sounds like I think you’re not smart enough to figure this all out, and shit, that’s not what I’m trying to say.”

Danny's expression is blank, but Roy reminds himself that he's never been able to keep anything negative off his face. 

”So many people telling you what to do, or demanding you be a certain way. Wanting you to react. I...I can't be one of them."

Of all the possible reactions, he’s not expecting Danny to smile.

”You know how I know you won’t do that? Because you’re worried about it.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re both scared. And that isn’t going to stop them.

Danny's smile is a beautiful thing, close-mouthed and lips curving upwards, casting tiny wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that he swears he's too young to have. He's not humoring one of Roy's fits of worry; this smile says he believes what he just said without reservation.

"That's why I trust you.”

Very slowly, the hand on his shoulder slides to the back of his neck. Danny's watching him, waiting for permission, and Roy simultaneously loves him for it and hates that he thinks he needs to ask. He relaxes into the gentle grip, letting the foot or so of space between them slip away. Closes his eyes for once as their lips meet in a kiss that's sweet and solemn, like a silent promise. It lasts only a few seconds, but settles something inside.

Their mouths separate slowly, reluctantly. In unspoken accord, neither of them move away just yet, noses pressed to the other’s cheek. He holds on to the moment, letting it start to soothe the parts of his heart torn open and raw. 

When Danny eventually lets go, Roy knows what he needs to address the thing that stood out the most in an entire argument full of wrongness. They settle back closer than before, his legs folded against the side of the chaise and Danny facing him, hip tight to Roy’s bare thigh.

“Before I-“ He stops to shake his head, tries again, “if I ever did ask, would you?”

He doesn’t have to explain what. Danny bites his lip, gazing somewhere in the middle distance. It's not a question he knows the answer to, or is using to lead the situation. Roy waits one breath, two, a dozen, wondering what he’s thinking and if the answer will change them. 

”...I’d try. For you.”

Roy knows how much he wants to say yes, but appreciates the honesty more. He also knows it would destroy them both if they promised and then couldn’t follow through.

"It's a part of who you are, right now at least. I'm not...I couldn't. Ask you to change that, expect you to promise me that, because if I've learned anything at all from experience, it's not fair.”

Danny frowns and opens his mouth, almost certainly to issue some sort of denial, and Roy rushes ahead.

“I’m not saying you would,” he squeezes Danny’s hands to let him know it isn’t an accusation, “or I would, but you’d feel guilty for wanting it if we tried and you ever thought about it, and you wouldn’t be happy."

Danny’s chin dips and he looks up from under his lashes, shy with unguarded honesty.

“Sometimes I do want...I think I do. For you.”

The last two words are whispered, but he hears them all the same. They’ve said so many things to each other over the course of their not-a-relationship, but he’s not sure if anything else will ever be this significant.

”It wouldn’t be fair to either of us,” Roy murmurs gently, “because I don’t- I don’t need that.”

Conflicted confusion crosses Danny’s face in a twitch of lips and furrowed brow, and he’s quick to follow the statement with another.

”I don’t need that because I trust you. I don’t need to throw some fucking straight guy jealous fit. I’m not gonna freak out because I know you picked up trade. I don’t own you.”

Part of it has been always knowing that Danny wasn't likely to settle down with someone, not anytime soon. Not beyond dating, not showing them everything he hides from the world. It meant that Roy wouldn't have to confront what they would do when the time came. His own failed experiment had had its own share of awkwardness early on between them, but that was years in the past and as close as they were then, is nothing on them now in this undefined uncommitted thing. 

Uncommitted wasn’t really accurate, though, was it? Non-exclusive? That was better. They might fuck other people, but they were definitely committed to each other in the ways that actually mattered and a multitude more that didn’t. A constant in each other’s lives. They knew that, and so did their friends and what Roy felt like was half of the whole damn internet some days. 

“It was never about the fucking.”

It’s not a question this time, Danny finally answering himself.

”Not the way you were thinking, no.”

”Not about him, either?”

”Not that way. I...I don’t want you to get hurt, not with fuck knows how many people out to be voyeurs, finally able to watch Adore Delano get intimate. And,” he gathers his courage, “yes, I- I was jealous some. And scared. Of the kind of passion you had. Not him like that, just, thinking about seeing you that happy, reminded me that this...this isn’t going to last forever. And I mean it when I say that I don’t own you and can’t demand you stay, but I wasn’t ready to think that...”

He has to pause for breath, Danny’s nearly unblinking attention a source of strength rather than trepidation.

”It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“Remember what I said to you the first night? I will always want you. It doesn’t matter if it’s a week or a month or a year, or if we ever figure out what in the hell we’re doing. We...somehow we fit, and I promised myself I wouldn't ever fuck it up. Sex or not.”

Danny’s hands find his, matching their palms and gripping fiercely. He feels Danny’s pulse beating below his fingertips and concentrates on the steady thrum.

_Tell him._

”I wasn’t ready to think that someone might love you more than I do. That’s the part worth fighting for, because I’m not willing to give that up. Unless you want me to.”

Danny frees one hand to hide his mouth, breaking eye contact. It’s a gesture he and Adore have in common, fingers curled away from his face and lips not quite touching to spare the makeup. He can’t make out what Danny mumbles into the back of his hand. 

”What’s that, angel?”

Danny looks up, eyes bright with moisture but clear.

“I...doesn’t matter who I’m with, what happens, this part of me, I- I’m...we’re different. You’re never gonna lose me, because I won’t love anyone else like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Were you ready for that? I wasn’t. The intended ending was lighter, less angsty, more of an open-ended conclusion where they don’t actually say it but understand each other and it’s left to the reader to decide what that exactly means. 
> 
> Then bitchcraftt said to me, “Quit talking around it and implying, that’s my gig.”
> 
> So.
> 
> We’re not done yet. Smut with so many feelings, the morning after, and more on the way.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but (hopefully) sweet.

The last sentence has barely faded when Danny takes another breath, whispering into the still air between them.

”You...no one is ever gonna love me more than you. I know they couldn’t.”

”...I...”

He swallows, throat gone dry. Then he takes the declaration, memorizing the feeling of it sinking into his core until it’s etched into the safest place of his heart, wrapped in snippets of Danny’s laughter and a worn out corset. 

Danny closes his eyes, dragging his fingers through his hair and tugging a handful of it. He’s only wearing one stud earring, Roy notices, frowning until he remembers seeing the crescent moon on the bathroom counter. 

“How can you be sure?”

He’s not trying to argue, and it’s clear that Danny understands it because he doesn’t tense up.

”Because you’re you.”

It’s apparently a complete explanation as far as he’s concerned, because Danny’s tone has the same inexplicable magnetism as when Bianca feels the note Adore’s just hit take up residence in her chest.

“You know how else I know?”

Danny’s mouth quirks up on one side and Roy shakes his head slowly, not sure of the answer but somehow not fearing it.

“Mom told me. Like a long time ago. She said we belong to each other. I thought I knew what she meant, but I really do now.”

“She told you that.”

”After the first time you stayed over. I thought she might be weird about us. Sharing the bed, I mean, cuz she knew we weren’t like that.”

“When-“

”Right after she woke us up and you ran and hid in the bathroom.”

Roy smiles, real and unreserved, for the first time in hours. He can feel it in his dimples, and doesn’t bother trying to control it.

“...B?”

”I always knew I liked Bonnie.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breathing room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The body language in this chapter is taken from my own recent experience having a very difficult conversation with someone I love. Sometimes there isn’t anything much to say, but you need to be as close as possible.

Danny shifts on the cushions, eyes flitting down and back up again, lips twitching. He’s chewing his lip like he wants a cigarette, but doesn’t even look at the kitchen table where his pack and lighter are waiting.

“Bianca.”

His voice is thick, that one word heavy with what other words could never say. It’s so much more than just a name. Roy’s smile fades but doesn’t disappear completely, and he bounces their joined hands on top of the blanket. 

“Yeah.”

“We’re okay?”

They hold each other’s gaze, searching. He takes in the telltale flush over Danny’s cheeks, the way his nose is still a little swollen. Roy can’t imagine he looks all that wonderful at the moment either. He pulls Danny to him for another soft kiss, tugging gently on his lower lip before pulling back.

”We’re okay.”

Two breaths after the words leave his mouth, Danny’s shoulders sag in visible relief, as if he’s set down a heavy burden. He sinks sideways from where he’s kneeling, spine curved to keep his body close as he lays his head on Roy’s lap, nose pressed to his stomach. 

They’ve done this hundreds of times, with or without company present, Danny’s eyes heavy with drowsiness or filled with affection, too drunk to sit upright or too comfortable to move. Tonight, it feels like he’s anchoring himself, holding Roy’s left hand tight against his chest.

Roy lifts Danny’s hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ear. His hand lingers after, index finger curved around the shell of Danny’s ear and thumb resting on his temple. As he caresses the skin, Danny burrows his free hand under the throw, tucking it below Roy’s bare thigh, fingers still shockingly warm in the chilly air.

Neither of them speak for several minutes. He concentrates on matching their breathing, the heat every time Danny exhales a welcome comfort. Danny’s eyes are half-lidded with exhaustion, but don’t have the unfocused stare of impending sleep. The pulse at his throat is beating slowly, steady and strong. 

“I was scared I was gonna lose you.”

It’s mumbled into his stomach, but Roy hears it clearly. 

”Me too.”

”You’re never scared of anything.”

”Never let a bitch see you sweat, remember? I do get scared, but I’m just good at hiding it. I don’t...what I’d do if that happened.”

Danny shakes his head, squeezing his thigh.

”Won’t.”

His voice is firm, and Roy silences the cynicism and pragmatic counter. Danny might lean on him heavily, but he does the same right back. It might not be as loud or obvious, but it’s just as significant.

Far too many things have flipped upside down over the last few hours, enough to make him dizzy if he keeps dwelling on them. Instead, he focuses on the one unshakable constant. 

Danny doesn’t break promises, not to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next part was one of the first I started writing when the story began, and keeps being pushed back as the plot fills in before it. 
> 
> Would you rather I wait to post as one mega chapter, or break it into multiples? Not just smut - think lovemaking on par with the last two chapters of Let Go, I’ve Got You.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised smut next, but needed an interlude of Danny's perspective first. Borrowing bitchcraftt's theme of Danny sleeping in Roy's bed when he's not home as a reference.

Roy’s thigh is so slender that his hand wraps halfway around it, the sparse hair crisp under his fingers. The hand he's claimed holds on just as fiercely as he grips it, Roy's knuckles cradled in the notch of his collarbone. It's an awkward way for his wrist to bend, but he doesn't complain, just lets Danny squeeze until he can feel Roy's pulse on his palm. 

It’s still not close enough. 

Roy's lap has been his pillow for years, and the familiarity takes a bit of the edge off how raw he feels inside, how close he came to fucking it all up. The weight of the hand resting on his head makes the ground under his proverbial feet just a little more solid. He takes a deep breath, catching traces of cologne still clinging to Roy's fingers hours since tidying the vanity after his shower. The hints of spice and wood mix with the clean scentthat calms him when he's unsettled and goes to sleep in Roy's bed alone while Bianca is out on tour.

His skin itches with the need to move, to do something to stop the pinpricks of sensation skittering across his nerves. He tucks his knees up further, until they’re touching Roy’s hip. The position, spine curved almost painfully, is the best he can do for now. Danny wants nothing more than to strip naked and wrap himself around Roy, feel his chest rise and fall with each breath and his arms tight around Danny’s shoulders. Wants to know that with everything aired out tonight like so much laundry, that the foundation of what's between them hasn't changed. Wants to feel safe again. He's all about taking risks and chances (much to Roy's chagrin), but this was a tumble into the unknown. 

"You know I'm not good with serious stuff."

Danny looks up, head turning to see his face with both eyes. 

"Bullshit. You're...yeah."

Roy doesn't dispute his disagreement, blinking slowly a few times before opening his mouth again.

"I don't know if what I said was enough."

Loathe as he is to move, Danny retrieves his left hand and pushes himself up on his elbow, eyes searching. He's seen more fear and uncertainty from Roy tonight than he has in a very long time, more even than when Danny found him caught in his own misery in a hotel room post-breakup. Roy's voicing his fears, knowingly or unknowingly giving Danny the power to wound him, offering up this most vulnerable part of himself for judgment. The trust hits him square in the chest again, more than anything proving that even if he thinks he can't find the words for it, Roy knows. 

_Say it. Let him hear it._

"I know I'm a mess. And I don't say stuff right either. But B...I'm really fucking sorry for earlier. I was thinking about it all wrong. I- you...it's always been enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whatever fragrance Bianca wears stayed on my cheek for hours after hugging her - based on photos of her getting ready, I'm guessing Acqua di Gio Profumo. It works well with Roy's body chemistry to be strong but not overpowering (when people wear a fragrance that doesn't work, you'll know it).


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy knows it’s safer to never want things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bitchcraftt and I are in the process of editing the lovemaking that’s coming next (pun completely intended). I intended to have it all in one go, but the lead up and action are over 5k words already and I’m still filling in between scenes. It’s been three weeks since the last update, and I wanted to post something in the meantime.

The coiled tension in his spine unwinds abruptly enough to leave him lightheaded, and Roy has to close his eyes for a moment. 

Danny's declaration isn't a fix-all. It's going to take a while to fully let go of the the way those angry words knocked the wind out of him. Roy has no delusions about his own propensity to quickly to forgive those he loves, shoving the shards of hurt to the edges until they finally pass, prodding at them like gingerly touching a bruise to see if it still aches. The desire to move past things doesn't always match up with the reality of the situation, but dwelling on it is only going to hurt them both. 

When he opens his eyes, he has Danny's undivided attention. The intensity in his eyes surpasses even Adore's hypnotic stare, and it's no less powerful for the understanding he sees, the heartfelt contrition. This is the look that takes people's breath away, unhindered by doubt and fully confident, the Danny that could be unstoppable. The knowledge that he's the one who's brought this out of him is humbling, and he stores it away for safekeeping. 

"B...?"

”Mmmm?”

”I-“ he sighs, starts again. “What do _you_ want?”

”Whatever you-“

He shakes his head, 

“No. Please, Willow. Just tell me what it is...for you. Don’t make it about me.”

“Adore.”

“I need to know.”

”Right now? Or...?”

”Yeah.”

Wanting is dangerous.   


Wanting means he's not in control, means that something or someone has power over him him, even if it's unintentional. 

Wanting makes him vulnerable. 

It’s not easier at all, but it’s safer to give, to fulfill someone else’s wants. Particularly when that someone is Danny. And it _is_ Danny, which means that he gave up any pretense of walls between them years ago, of protecting himself.   


“Please.”

He's still watching Roy with that careful compassion. With love.

_Tell him._


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I broke this out as a separate chapter on August 1st, and have been coming back to it for over five months, which is a record when it comes to my writing. The story began as four or five chapters, with a less angsty version of this as the last one. Here's nearly 5,000 words of lead up to the actual lovemaking after all of the heartache.

_Tell him._

”...you. I want you to be happy, whoever you're with. But I want this,” he gestures between them, encompassing their bodies, “I want us, however we make this work, whatever the fuck it is, whatever else we’re doing. Even if we’re on opposite sides of the world, even if you get a boyfriend, hell, if I somehow get one. Even if we gotta give up doing this...I don’t want you to ever think I won’t be there for you.”

Everything slows, balanced on edge. The next sentence is difficult to get out, mouth gone dry, and he has to try twice before his throat unsticks enough. When he speaks, it's with a voice raspier even than before his surgery.

“That’s what I want.”

Between one blink and the next, the entreaty in Danny's eyes transforms into radiant happiness. It's followed almost immediately by sharp focus, becoming a spark of very recognizable desire before Roy can even react.

The world starts moving again.

Danny leans forward and captures his mouth, a light brush of lips that turns into a series of kisses, lingering more with each shared breath. His right hand traces up Danny’s arm, until Roy’s holding the back of his neck. Then he deliberately licks just inside Danny's upper lip, tasting the remains of salty tears, nerves alight with the drag of skin over skin. Lost in the kiss, he sees the corners of Danny's mouth turned up, nose nudging the high point of his cheek gone firm with a hidden smile. He can feel as much as hear the content purr turn into a moan as Danny deepens the kiss until their tongues are stroking over each other in an intimate dance. 

Eventually, Danny pulls back, searching his face.

”We’re okay.”

It’s a statement, but there’s still a hint of question in his eyes.

”Yes.”

Roy takes a few seconds to bask in the warmth of Danny’s growing smile before leaning in again. 

Their mouths meet with more force this time. Danny’s hand is hot on his knee, sliding up his covered thigh, kneading the muscle just below his groin. He catches Roy's lower lip between his teeth, humming low in his throat when that causes the fingers in his hair to tighten, sweetness turning towards dark sensuality. Roy tips his face up, chasing after his mouth and loosing his hand to cup Danny's jaw, thumb firm on his chin. He's not prepared when Danny draws it into the searing moist heat of his mouth, tongue swirling around the pad of his finger as he sucks suggestively. They lock eyes, and this close he can see the way Danny's pupils blow even wider as he gives a thorough demonstration of his skill at fellatio, humming and flicking his tongue along the web of skin between thumb and forefinger.

In the back of his mind is the awareness that the heat spreading downwards is amplified by their heightened emotions, but it’s no more than a passing thought. A moment later, Danny's probably not even consciously thinking about it when his clever fingers abandon Roy’s leg and move to cup his crotch. 

They break apart at Roy's surprised inhale, both breathing hard. Danny freezes, open want written across his swollen lips. The shirt hanging off his shoulder only adds to the picture of desire, warring with the vulnerable curve of his throat. 

“I-“

Roy licks his lips, feeling spit smeared over his mouth and chin. 

”We don’t have to do anything.”

It's automatic, and he intends it in reference to their mutual exhaustion, his own obvious interest under Danny's hand notwithstanding. Five minutes ago, he’d been about to suggest they finally get some sleep, and despite the stirring in his groin, he has to be sure. Danny must take his concern as reluctance for other reasons though, and his face falls. Roy's about to elaborate with a suggestion of cuddling when he hears his breath hitch.

”It doesn’t have to be a lot. Not if you don’t wanna...I-“ he stares down at their joined hands on his thigh, “never mind.”

Danny’s shivering a little now, trying to push closer in a way that has nothing to do with temperature or lust. 

“I just- I need you.”

It sounds like a more immediate thing rather than the larger concept they’ve been chasing all night, and Roy closes his mouth with a snap. Any encounter between them tonight is likely to be intense. This isn't just feeling peaky and running on three hours of sleep in thirty-six hours, or even the deep emotional fatigue of their first time. He’s not sure there are words left to describe it.

“Adore...” he starts to explain, but his brain decides on action rather than trying to talk it out. "Come here. Please?”

They’re already sitting knee to knee on the chaise, but he reels Danny in without thinking, kicking off the throw to hook one foot over an ankle. The rasp of denim on his inner thigh comes as a shock until he remembers his own state of undress. He doesn’t spare it another thought though as he slides further down, rolling onto his side and slipping his other knee between Danny’s thighs, arms around his shoulders. It’s not lying together underneath the covers, but it’s close enough to provide shelter for more serious conversation.

"Talk to me."

”It’s dumb. We already-,” his jaw juts out in irritation, “already worked it out.”

“Not if it’s still bothering you.”

Truth be told, he’s surprised how much of the conversation hasn’t been revisiting itself, not when it’s this complicated. It’s their doubts and insecurities now, threatening the carefully rebuilt understanding.

“It’s like...when we're here. This. Like it’s always me needing you, but you never ask me for anything. And I thought, maybe I wasn't, maybe you didn't feel like I was. That’s why I was scared.”

It not an accusation, and it sounds like he’s feeling the words out as he goes. As far as statements go, it's not the most eloquent, but Roy understands all the same.

“I don’t always say so, but I- don't ever think what you give me doesn't matter. Or that I'm missing something. From you.”

”It’s fucked up because I know that. I _know_ it and just- I can’t stop feeling like, like there’s a part of my brain that won’t shut up.”

Drag Race fans are familiar with how Danny’s described his mind like a glittery crayon, but Roy’s seen the not-so-entertaining side of it. What the fans don’t seem to truly comprehend is that Adore is a painted up version of his confidence, all flannel and pleather and the thinnest of veneers of indifference. Roy's been there when he can’t focus his attention at all, distracted, or when he can’t stop obsessively thinking about something. It drives him to create music that’s full of emotion, but the flip side is Danny unable to break free from the cycle of self-doubt and criticism and reckless behavior. 

"And you've gotta- I'm so tired of it, and not being able to just be better and figure out what I'm supposed to be doing right."

There's a dampness tenuously contained in Danny’s eyes, shimmering wet on his lashes as he gives a frustrated groan. Roy doesn't have an answer now any more than he probably ever will, but he does know what he _can_ offer.

“I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Danny's characteristic mercurial mood is only heightened in times of stress, and Roy knows he's not trying to be dramatic. The emotional fallout of what they’ve done is affecting them both profoundly. His own jumble of feelings is too close to the surface, one off moment all it would take to collapse the barrier he’s hastily erected. It’s an imperfect wall, buttressed and shored up and far more fragile than he’s willing to admit. Something of that must translate as Danny clings to him, while he's  holding on just as hard in return. 

”Shit...m'sorry. I-"

Danny closes his eyes and one of the leftover tears rolls down his cheek, unbidden. 

”Angel-“ Roy sweeps the tear away, chest gone tight, registering but not quite understanding the full-body shudder at the word.

”Fucking...swear I haven’t cried this much since Drag Race. M’not even...”

His expression is a mix of annoyance and desperate humor, clearly on the razor edge of control.

“I know,” Roy murmurs, “s’gonna be a hell of a night.”

”Already has.”

He drops his head onto the rough fabric of the cushions, noses touching, waiting as Danny's rapid blinking slows. Eventually, his breathing settles and he gives a long sniffle, wiping his nose on the inside of the torn out collar of his shirt.

"Fuck me."

They’re both too wrung out to make an innuendo.

“Still with me?”

Danny's chin tilts down, staring at Roy's collarbone just above the zipper. He waits for a reply, long enough that his hip and elbow are starting to go numb, but doesn't move until Danny nods, pensive and distracted. 

“Yeah. Mostly.”

Another draft sneaks under the front door, and he can't help the involuntary shiver when it hits his exposed skin. As comfortable as the chaise is, he doesn't want to stay there all night, and his body wouldn’t thank him if they did. 

“Bed?”

Roy lets go carefully, finds Danny’s hand already waiting and laces their fingers together. He kicks the blanket away where it’s tangled around their ankles, then grips the edge of the chaise to pull them both to their feet, leaning briefly on the bookcase for balance as his knees pop. His legs are sore and cramped from the cold kitchen floor earlier and tense inactivity, but it’s enough for him to be able to walk. Sighing, he leads them out of the living room and down the hall.

For a moment as they’re passing by the open window, he’s grateful that it overlooks a quiet street with no one to glimpse them. Their reflection is distorted in the angled glass, but they’re surely a sight right now. There's no one to see him naked from the waist down, or Danny's flushed cheeks as he follows a step behind. 

Danny pauses outside the bedroom door, expression unreadable. He seems reluctant to cross the threshold, and Roy doesn’t try to drag him across like he has on so many other nights. Side by side, they contemplate the room in silence. It’s exactly as they both left it, covers strewn over the floor and pillows pushed half off the edge. There’s an impression on the crumpled duvet - where Danny had been sitting when it all became too much - that both of their eyes linger on. The echo of hurt in the space has faded, but it’s still not quite the usual sanctuary. 

”Do you wanna shower?” The ‘together’ is left unsaid. "We can figure out after that what to do."

Danny’s eyes are red-rimmed but clear, expression still sober. He shakes his head, not negatively but as if he’s trying to clear it.

"I really need you to touch me.”

His statement isn’t an exaggeration, and Roy doesn't pretend to not understand. He knows Danny actually does need the physical contact, has to be anchored against the storm trying to shake him apart. Needs to settle himself. It's part of the reason Danny finds someone to burn off his emotions with, even if it's not completely satisfying - Roy tucked away the jolt of _significance_ at Danny's offhand comment - or drinks himself to oblivion. Why he makes inadvisable decisions, does things while drunk that he’ll regret later. 

“I want you too, you know,” Roy murmurs, toes digging into the carpet, “weren’t you listening when I said that part?”

It’s a gentle tease, and he follows it by capturing Danny’s mouth with a firm kiss. Standing, the height difference out of drag - Bianca's heels usually put her on more level footing with Adore - means he has to rock up on the balls of his feet. Danny’s lips are tense with a troubled pout, and it takes a few seconds before he relaxes into it.

“How do you wanna do it?”

The question is comforting in its familiarity, gives them both something known in a night full of the unexpected. Exhaustion - physical and emotional - has dulled it, but he’s hungry for Danny too. Under the surface calm, Roy’s aching for something as well, the desire to reaffirm their connection through touch. He has some idea of what Danny might want, what he would want to give, but waits patiently for a response. 

Anything would be good, really, all options satisfying in their own way. Even simply climbing into bed and holding each other might take the edge off enough for them both to sleep. Roy could easily give in to his tiredness, but not until he’s sure Danny won’t be left awake with restless energy. If he wants a surfeit of touch, a massage might fulfill the need for skin on skin with the added bonus of relaxing Danny _and_ assuaging Roy’s instinct to take care of him. And in all honesty, either would probably end with them rubbing off together, could consume the angst turning towards lust burning under their skin.

“Umm...”

Danny shifts his weight from one foot to the other, hip canted against the doorframe as he considers. He hasn’t relinquished Roy’s hand, thumb tapping his knuckles over and over while he thinks. Frank discussion of sex isn’t off-putting, not when it means they’re both trying to give the other what he wants, and it's easier to meet his partner’s desires if he doesn’t have to guess. As long as they’ve been lovers, Danny’s never had a problem asking for things in bed, so it’s not reluctance for that reason. 

”Do you want to fuck me?”

Objectively, the thing most likely to give them that connection they’re craving is having full on penetrative sex. It might help Danny take back ownership of himself and his feelings, the best demonstration of Roy's...feelings. There’s an intimacy beyond the obvious when one of them is buried to the hilt in the other, the kind of vulnerability needed to allow it without reservation. (They’ve discussed power dynamics in sex before, lying on the couch nude, Danny smoked up and Roy a glass of wine short of fully inebriated.) Bottoming isn’t passive or submissive, but it _is_ a deliberate decision to literally open up oneself to being hurt that requires a significant amount of trust. 

It’s not a token offer. After everything, being on the receiving end hardly seems an inconvenience. While it’s not his preferred activity by a long shot, it’s also not too bad when it’s Danny. Roy’s never liked pain with bottoming - some discomfort is inevitable, but the feeling of being forced open even a little throws him out of the mood completely, and Danny's always been considerate of that. 

“I-“

Danny frowns, shakes his head again.

“What do you need, my love?”

The endearment will always feel right. 

“Whatever it is, it’s okay. Just tell me.”

He sighs, lips quirking almost imperceptibly.

”What?”

”Remember- that first night?”

“Did you want...that? Hard?”

“Not rough, that’s not it. Just, remember you said that, and you...you did. Gave me-“ Danny’s eyes go distant, “-this.”

There’s a lot of ways he could interpret that request, the things said and done then second only to tonight in significance.

”I- you're gonna have to be more specific.”

Danny ducks his face down, eyes flitting away. Roy rests their foreheads together and lets him, knows he's using it as a refuge to speak his mind. 

”Will...can we- make it special tonight?  I want to feel- like...sometimes I want...and you do, but...”

_Oh._

"Angel-"

“Please.”

”You want me to take care of you, tonight. Take care of each other.”

It’s not a question, but Danny nods just a little, swallowing hard.

”You want to feel loved.”

He thinks about their first night together as lovers in his bed. They’ve shared some of the hottest sex he’s ever had, and while certain nights are sweeter and more intimate than others, tender lovemaking is rare.It's something saved for moments when one of them feels so fragile he can't bear it, one step from flying apart at the seams. 

It's Danny at the height of Adore's legal battles, needing to be treated like glass, curled small and defeated against Roy's couch cushions. 

It's Roy after his failed relationship, afraid to ask for it, Danny laying him down and loving him on a hotel room floor.

"Tomorrow I'll still be a mess and all of that. It’ll be just as fucked up, m'not gonna have the balls to talk about then, neither of us, and I just...fuck, B, right now I need that. Please."

Roy kisses him in response, pouring every unspoken feeling, every bit of rightness when he’s watching Danny sleep in his arms, into the press of lips.Words are so imprecise when their bodies have always known how to say everything. He hasn’t topped in a few of weeks, not since Danny hasn't been in the mood for it. Plenty of sucking each other off, handjobs before bed and fucking the cleft of Danny’s clenched cheeks, but no penetration. They’ll have to go slow, but that's not a problem. 

And he needs it too.

“Okay.We’ll do it.” 

It’s a deliberate echo of the first real moment they shared in the workroom, years ago, and Danny breathes out the ghost of a laugh.It’s barely more than a huff of air, but it tells Roy that they understand each other.

Danny’s shoulders come down, and he closes the half-step of space between them to nuzzle at Roy's cheek. He kisses Danny one more time, the lightest brush of lips, and moves aside to let him pass. Four steps later, Danny pauses in the doorway of the en-suite, a tiny frown creasing his brow.

"You don't mind-?"

"Go on,” Roy murmurs, “unless you want me to...?”

Danny shakes his head. 

“Okay. Take your time.Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

Danny doesn’t say anything else, but pulls off his (Roy’s) shirt, tossing it in the direction of the hamper. He steps out of his jeans, and Roy is surprised at the lack of underwear until he remembers seeing them hanging over the lip of the tub. There’s no artifice, playful or seductive, while he disrobes, belt buckle hitting the floor with a muffled thump.

Roy focuses on the angle of Danny’s shoulders, the curve at the small of his back. Instead of ruthlessly quashing it like he usually does, he nurtures the tiny spark of possessive warmth, letting it spread from the pit of his stomach and fill his lungs. He never allows himself to think _mine_ outside of those quiet minutes he’s holding a sleeping Danny, not when he’s sober anyway.

Danny turns away into the bathroom, pushing the door mostly closed behind him. Roy exhales noisily and drags a hand through his hair, staring into space and listening to the sound of him rummaging in the cupboard under the vanity. When he hears the shower start, his scattered focus sharpens and he moves decisively without having to think. 

He retrieves a towel from the linen closet in the hall, goes to the kitchen and brings back a couple of bottles of water. Picks the duvet and sheet up off the floor, shaking them open and remaking the bed, towel crackling with static when he spreads it over the sheets. He plugs his phone in and retrieves Danny's phone from his jeans to do the same. Folds the covers down, hands smoothing wrinkles out even though they won’t stay that way for long. Sorts through the pillows and rearranges them against the headboard, moving the extra firm one Danny likes to prop his hips up on over to his side of the bed.

_Danny has a side in his bed and a favorite sex pillow._

He hasn't stopped to think about that in years. 

Opening the nightstand drawer, he sets out lube and condoms. He starts to close it, then stops to pull it out the rest of the way and leans over to really look. Next to his spare phone charger and lip balm, several more strips of condoms are neatly stacked in front of another bottle of lube with the cellophane seal still in place over the lid. Further back in the drawer, a cock ring and vibrator sit among the coils of one of Bianca’s sashes. He runs his fingers over the silky fabric, memories of it wrapped around his own wrists mingling with teasing a blindfolded Danny until he could barely speak. The contents of the drawer are a testament to nights spent together purely in pursuit of pleasure. Sighing, he pushes it shut and considers how he never brings them out for anyone else on the occasion he indulges otherwise.

A hookup is just that - in, out, done, always considerate of his partner’s orgasm but not looking for anything other than a cordial goodbye after. He might be dominating and rough if that’s what’s desired, but kinky exploration is reserved for Danny. Pulling trade is something he has to be circumspect about these last few years, not interested in a repeat of the “not today, Satan” incident or finding out that they’re really only interested in Bianca. Adore and Courtney might enjoy fucking fans, but drag has never been associated with a sexual encounter for him. Drag is his job, not something he takes into the proverbial bedroom. 

Except with Danny.

He unzips the hoodie, grateful for the heater kicking on as he strips off the warm fabric. Roy debates going into the bathroom for his toothbrush, but decides that open door or not, he’s going to respect Danny’s time alone. With all they’ve done - not only sexually - there aren’t really any physical boundaries left when it comes to sharing space. His presence might not be unwelcome, but it doesn’t necessarily follow that Danny wants him in there now. This is giving Danny vital time to put himself back together, to decide if he wants to change his mind. That happens for them both occasionally, briefly disappointing but ultimately no hindrance to them enjoying each other. Roy’s always thought that being able to say “no” - and have it respected - is a vital part of safe sex.

The mouthwash in the hall bathroom will have to do. After spitting in the sink, he gives his underarms a quick sniff and makes a face. He’s a little musky, and Danny won’t care but he’d rather start off clean. Roy reasons he has time for a quick rinse in the shower, running the water extra hot to wash off the uncertainty he can still feel clinging to his skin. It doesn’t quite thaw the core of cold inside, but it's enough for now. The last of his unsettled nerves should still under Danny’s hands.

Wrapped in a towel, he contemplates the cupboard behind the door. He’s never asked if it’s the same for his lover, but preparing himself is part of the process to put Roy in the right mindset. The act is its own ritual, control of the details before deliberately giving it up. It’s as much making the decision that he’s ready as it is physical fact. (Danny enjoys fingering him, even if he’s stretched himself enough to take him already.) He could get ready as well in case Danny changes his mind, but it doesn’t feel likely, and he doesn't want him to find the bedroom empty. 

Thankfully, the en-suite shower is still running when he returns, and he takes a couple of minutes to move around the house, shutting off lights and double checking that the front door is locked. He sheds the towel, pausing in front of the mirror on the way back from the hamper. On the dresser below, a handful of change and a couple of crumpled receipts litter the otherwise neat surface in front of a framed ABCD tour photo. All four of them are smiling out of it, but Adore and Bianca have their arms around each other, bodies inclined together. The photographer managed to capture tiny details of the moment, Bianca's fingers pressed into the bare skin at Adore's waist, the way Courtney and Darienne are side-eyeing them with indulgent exasperation. 

Looking up, he meets his own gaze in the mirror, expression tired and serious. Takes a moment to really look, trying to see himself through Danny’s eyes. Danny won’t see the fine lines around his mouth and eyes from years of laughter that he unabashedly gets Botox to fix.He doesn’t care about whether his lips have been done for Bianca’s face, or if he’s shaved in the last few days. Doesn’t go beyond teasing that his face has lost some of its sharp angles to time and cosmetic work. Isn’t bothered by the way one of his brows is bisected by an old scar, or that his stubble is starting to grow in gray in places.

His skin prickles with a feeling that isn’t quite nervousness but also isn’t far off. It’s not performance anxiety either as Roy sits on the edge of the bed, looking down at his dick resting soft on his thigh. He discards the idea of getting warmed up, because they’re not in any hurry and there’s never any problem with arousal when he’s near Danny anyway. Some other night, he would probably be waiting impatiently, stroking himself to a full erection or ready to drop to his knees the moment the bathroom door opens.

Years of fucking each other silly means he's had time to catalog every response Danny has, mapped out where to touch, how and when and for how long.He could (he has) probably bring Danny off without much trouble even if he's half asleep or drunk. They move around each other so easily, in dressing rooms and clubs and restaurants. Danny knows what drink to order for him, which side of the bathroom vanity to contain his mess to, what movie to put on when Roy's exhausted but not ready to sleep yet. It's easy as breathing for them both, and that more than anything matters.

He’s always enjoyed thinking ahead for what Danny might want, but this isn’t any other session of trying to get each other off as hard as possible. Part of him knows it’s just sex.It’s also never only sex with Danny even when it is.It’s never been truly casual, but tonight _means_ something. For all that they’ve done, it’s different. It won’t be jerking each other off with brisk efficiency when they’re both horny but too tired to do more, or lazy blowjobs before going out. Not one of their wilder nights either, no struggle for dominance, no kinky games. Even the times they go slow and sweet, there’s still the unspoken agreement that they keep it in the moment, not bringing up the things murmured at the height of passion during the silent cuddles afterwards. That space between midnight and dawn that belongs to them both, theirs and no one else's.

He thinks about their first night, offering his body and barely daring to hope that Danny might want him beyond the sunrise.Then as now it was an emotionally charged situation, both of them tiptoeing around their mutual desires.  He’d meant to spend the night devoted to giving Danny whatever he needed, pleasuring him and giving him a safe way to release the storm brewing inside his head and heart. Admittedly, it wasn’t a completely selfless offer either; he’d hoped he could take away something to satisfy the longstanding ache, to relive on nights alone with his hand for company. Instead, they’d taken care of each other so unexpectedly that sometimes he still shakes his head in wonder at their reality.

Briefly, Roy wonders if they ought to return to the couch or the seldom-used guest bed instead, as if their argument might have somehow spoiled the  space. He could lay out pillows and the extra duvet on the chaise, and it’s plenty large enough for them to fuck. Except, his bedroom has always been a place of intimacy, a place where they trust each other, laugh and cry and cry out in pleasure together, and it needs to be fixed.

He realizes that tonight isn’t just about what Danny needs.It’s also about him fitting all of the pieces together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the first things I wrote for the entire story are in this chapter:  
> "Will...can we- make it special tonight?"  
> "You want me to take care of you, tonight. Take care of each other.”  
> "You want to feel loved.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5,700 words of something even more profound than love.

The shower shuts off, and his attention shifts to focus on the door when Danny steps out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel that he quickly discards.Danny tilts his head to the side, considering, and a few drops of water break loose from his hair to make their way over his shoulders. He takes in the whole room with a glance, Roy’s habitual “we’re going to fuck” setup, then Roy himself waiting on the bed with his legs folded underneath. 

Roy shifts on his heels and holds out his arms, and Danny doesn’t hesitate before crossing the short distance and climbing up into a tight embrace. He spends a few breaths simply enjoying the way their bodies fit together. Warm, slightly damp skin feels amazing against his own, chasing away the chill. Danny’s trembling just a little, and Roy leans back with concern written over his face.

“Pussyface?”

His expression is calm, and he smells like cedar and smoke.There’s no tears, no distress despite the shivers rolling through him. 

“I still want to.”

“Okay.”

Closing the distance between them, he kisses Danny slowly, slipping his tongue past pouting lips. Danny tastes like Roy’s toothpaste, and he spares a moment to be amused when it reminds him that Danny never bothers to bring his own when they travel together. A hand moves to curve against his jaw, kiss deepening, unhurried and undemanding. It's the kind of kiss that's complete in itself, not necessarily a lead up to sex, and Roy loses himself in it  until both of their lips are swollen.   


Eventually, Danny pulls away, quiet words breathed against his cheek.

”I swear B, some days...how are you like even real?”

”What’s that mean?”

They’re both naked and half aroused, but that hardly seems important right now. 

“If I said I didn’t want to fuck, you’d still be okay with that.”

It's a sentiment he's voiced before, and Roy grits his teeth the way he always does when he thinks about others maybe not taking no for an answer. If they’re lucky, he’ll never meet them and Danny won’t tell him if anyone is directly responsible for him still seeming surprised when Roy respects his decisions. There's no way Danny isn't picking up on the tension in his muscles, but it's a longstanding argument and one that isn't going to go away anytime soon, and they both know not to bring it up by now.

"Sorry."

"Quit that," Roy murmurs, tone mild, "I just, if there’s one thing- you’re...I...”

Danny’s fingers twitch, thumb tucking itself into a dimple, and shakes his head.

”I know.”

His hand tightens, holding Roy in place for an open-mouthed kiss that steals his breath away. It's nothing like the languid comfort from a minute ago as Danny’s tongue strokes over his own, teasing flicks across his lips that turn messy with contained want. The thrill of Danny tongue-fucking his mouth spirals down to where his dick is just beginning to stir, drawing an involuntary gasp that Danny swallows with a dark, sensual laugh. His other hand is everywhere, roaming Roy’s bare torso, caressing the cut of his hip and groping his ass. 

The self-control is a sign of how serious he actually is - in other circumstances, Danny would already be climbing out of his skin with restless need. With that in mind, he eases Danny down onto the pillows, moving to lay between his spread legs and letting him feel his weight. Their cocks rub against each other in passing, and he shivers pleasantly at the satiny caress of hot skin. Danny makes a noise that's caught in his throat, somewhere between a whimper and a growl. Closing his eyes, Roy reaches for that possessive heat again, letting go of his stranglehold on it. 

Lets it flow into the kiss, into the way he urges Danny’s head to tilt to give him access to the soft skin below his jaw. 

Lets it dance over his nerves when he nuzzles a sensitive spot behind Danny’s ear, moaning quietly at the toes tracing up the back of his leg. 

Lets it guide him when he eventually grips his shoulders and rolls them over until Roy’s cradling Danny’s hips between his thighs, teeth scraping over his lips, and breath catching every time Danny's squirming brings their half-hard dicks into contact.

They break for air, and Danny licks his way down the side of Roy’s neck, stopping to mouth under his jaw where stubble gives way to smooth skin. Even as his teeth graze over Roy’s throat, he can tell Danny’s holding back. He’s almost too distracted by Danny’s tongue swirling over his skin to realize why.

”Angel?”

He receives an interrogative hum in reply, raising goosebumps as the vibration moves over his damp skin.

Taking a shuddering breath, Roy lets himself _want_.

”Mark me.”

Danny goes perfectly still for half a second, then he’s kissing down past where Roy’s neck meets his shoulder. His mouth moves steadily towards the place at the edge of Roy’s collarbone, the one spot always concealed under the strap of his tank tops, not visible even when he wears wide-necked shirts. He's half-joked a few times that Roy ought to have a lipstick kiss from Adore tattooed there, so he doesn't have to think about exactly where to find it. 

“Baby?”

Danny’s confusion is clear when the hand in his hair tugs his head to stop. Roy steers him firmly back up, well above the neckline of any shirt collar. Then he exhales, angling his head to the side and exposing the vulnerable curve of his throat. 

”Here.”

”B...you want me to...?”

“Yes.”

Danny’s hand slides up from where it’s splayed over his chest below the collarbone, long fingers tracing up the side of his neck to cradle the back of his head. The next kiss he gives Roy is light, nearly chaste despite their nudity and arousal, and words barely stirring the air between their lips.

“S’not just because of- cuz of what I said earlier?”

Oh. Roy's not sure he could fully explain right at this moment, not in a way that won't sound patronizing.

“It matters to you, angel, or you wouldn’t have said it. If you...I’m not asking just for that reason.”

Danny doesn’t question what he’s not saying, but the tiny frown creasing the skin over his nose smooths out. He kisses Roy’s cheek and jaw, nuzzling at his neck again. Then his teeth carefully close on a bit of skin, running his tongue over it again and again. He spends several seconds there, as if he expects Roy to change his mind. 

“Please.”

With that one word, he grips the back of Roy’s head more firmly, seals his lips against his throat, and sucks.

”Oh...fuck.”

Roy’s cock throbs as Danny exhales through his nose, mouth unmoving. He holds Danny’s head in place, hips thrusting upwards and fully hard where he rubs against Danny's thigh. Everything is more real in that moment - the prickle of stubble, damp breath gusting over his skin, the way Danny’s moaning quietly while he works a love bite onto the most visible part of Roy’s neck. It stings a little, but mostly speaks to that place in his chest, soothing the ache even as a blissful sort of soreness comes from the pinch of teeth. 

When Danny pulls back, Roy pushes up and glances across at the mirror over the dresser. He looks completely fucked out already, drunk on lust, lips swollen and a sheen of sweat on his flushed face. The bite is scarlet, impressions of Danny’s teeth distinct at the edges from several feet away. It’s going to be even more obvious in a few hours, and he can't bring himself to be bothered by the thought. The look Danny gives him is pure possessive lust, and he breathes it in as a thumb brushes over the mark.

"Okay?" 

Despite the heat in his eyes, Danny’s tone carries a note of vulnerability, and Roy knows what he needs to say.

"This, right here, what we do in this bed..." his voice catches when the thumb presses down firmly, "this is ours."

He stares until Danny nods, clamping his knees to either side of Roy's hips and rolling them over again so he's looking up, hair fanned out in a halo on the pillowcase. Normally Roy would be on his way down to start sucking him off, but tonight is time to go slow and savor. He kisses a meandering path from Danny’s throat, following the constellations of freckles leading over his chest, lips soft and wet. 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, “so beautiful.”

Compliments are hardly rare between them during sex, except he's aware that the reverence in his tone borders on indecent. He shifts over to straddle a thigh, walking his fingers down until they brush over Danny's clenching hole. Instead of sinking in easily though, there’s still resistance, the muscle not yielding how he expects. Danny’s not deliberately doing it, which means-

“You didn’t stretch yourself?”

With the amount of time he’d spent in the shower, he thought Danny would have given himself at least a quick one- two-prep. It's not one of the rare nights where he begs to be fucked open, either. He’s never as thorough as Roy when he’s bottoming, but still...

Danny pushes himself up on his elbows, meeting Roy's eyes with a tremulous half-smile, and shakes his head.

”You promised to take care of me.”

His voice rises slightly at the end, making the statement not quite a question but also not as certain as Roy would like. Tonight really has taken it out of them both.

"Yeah, I'm gonna," he murmurs, petting his inner thigh, "I've got you, angel."

Urging Danny over onto his stomach, he sits back on his heels to take in the planes of his shoulder blades and barely visible ribs. Roy leans down to kiss the back of his neck, trailing parted lips over the butterfly below, the coordinates on his shoulder. He licks a trail down Danny’s spine, lingering in the dip leading up to the swell of his ass and swirling the tip of his tongue just above his tailbone. Danny spreads his legs in response to the kiss he presses to the moon tattoo, not precisely wanton but asking for where he wants Roy’s mouth to go next. For his part, used to reading Danny’s desires in the pitch of his moans and tensed muscles, the invitation is clear. He retrieves the lube and settles between his thighs as Danny pulls a pillow under his stomach and arches up.

Danny’s ass has been described variously - by fans and friends alike - as luscious, full, thick. For Roy, staring down at the round cheeks, it’s always the definition of temptation. Wetting his thumbs, he uses them to trace the cleft, watching Danny shiver and tiny goosebumps follow in the wake of his caress. He spreads him open and licks the sensitive skin lightly, delicate circles moving closer to but not quite where Danny wants him. 

“B, don’t tease.”

“M’not actually trying to,” he murmurs, biting at a quivering inner thigh, “want to enjoy you.”

"Mmmmphh."

Giving in, he runs the flat of his tongue in a broad swipe over Danny’s hole. A moment later, he’s glad of the arm across the small of Danny’s back as he bucks up with a moan, nearly dislodging Roy’s other hand from his left cheek. He readjusts, right hand where his forearm was, pressing down enough to make his intent clear.

_Hold still._

Danny tries his best, Roy’s sure of it, but it was always a losing proposition. His widespread thighs are tense, knees braced on the sheets and shaking slightly. He squirms under the slow exploration, tiny noises of need on every exhale.

"Please, B, I..."

Roy takes a moment to rearrange, propping his elbows under his chest for a better angle. Without warning, he buries his face in Danny’s ass for an obscenely wet open-mouthed kiss, sucking and stroking his hole with his tongue.

"Ohmygod. Fuck me...”

He hums in acknowledgement, which only makes Danny moan louder. The writhing increases, to the point where it's clear that Danny is shoving back to meet his tongue more than trying to hump the pillow below his hips. It's an erotic testament to...something, Roy's brain decides, but he files that away to consider when half of the blood in his body isn't being diverted to his dick. 

Grinning, he pops the cap on the lube and slicks up a finger, delighting in Danny's gasp as he teases the tip in. He keeps up slow licks around the rim while his finger works, ignoring the spit smeared over his chin in favor of grinding his erection into the sheets every time Danny moans. Roy's not keeping track of time, precisely, but it's a good while later when he's up to three fingers that Danny's legs give out and he lands on the impressive wet spot below his leaking cock with a quiet mewl. He gently withdraws his hand and pulls his mouth away with a bite to the place where ass meets thigh, propping his chin on one firm cheek.

"Mmm. Could do that for hours."

The shiver starts in Danny's shoulders and rolls down his spine as he takes a deep breath, pulling his face out of the pillow he's been moaning into.

“My turn now?”

Danny’s voice is ruined, husky and shaky with the arousal still running through him.

Roy sits up, wipes his mouth and hand on the sheet. Danny taking a ‘turn’ could be anything from one of his devastatingly slow and messy blowjobs to a lapdance or licking every sensitive spot on Roy’s body until he begs. He glances downwards, considers his straining erection, and smiles a rueful smile that no one else is going to see. 

”Next time, angel? I don’t think I could last if you did.”

He rubs the head of his cock, already shiny and leaking, against Danny’s hole in slow circles. It’s a breath of the forbidden, more than he should, more than Danny should let him without the barrier of a condom. It’s nothing he would risk with anyone else. Danny clenches down against the teasing hint of penetration, arching his back to cant his hips further up. The motion makes his cock catch on the rim of Danny’s hole, and they both moan at the sensation, Roy’s a bitten off curse and Danny’s almost a sob.

"We can't."

The wistful regret in his own voice is surprising.

"I know."

He leans forward, until he can press his cheek against the butterfly tattoo, sweeping damp hair out of the way. Neither of them speaks for a minute, and he feels Danny’s breathing gradually returning to normal from the desperate panting.

"B...do you ever wish...if it were different...?"

Roy pauses, closing his eyes. They likely won't ever be able to, but-

“Don’t ask me that.”

He can feel the weight of Danny's stare, and opens his eyes to see him looking back over his shoulder, face red and lips swollen, serious expression out of place amid the sweaty sheets. He knows what's actually being asked.

”Just tell me."

"Yeah. I do."

Danny's shoulders relax, letting out a shaky breath. Then he shoves himself upwards, twisting to land on his back with a thump. He makes grabby hands at Roy, pulls him down for a kiss despite where his mouth has just been. They lie still for a few breaths, foreheads resting together and exchanging slow caresses of lips and tongue.

"C'n keep going."

"Yeah?"

Giving Roy's lower lip a last careful tug with his teeth, Danny reaches out to the nightstand, passing him a foil packet. He rolls the condom on quickly, efficient movements covering the way he wants to thrust up into his own hand with the relief of finally receiving stimulation. While he’s slicking up his cock, Danny turns back around, stuffing that pillow under his hips and hugging one to his chest. Knees spread, he arches, presenting his ass. Seeing the pose, hole shiny with slick, Roy swallows hard and squeezes the base of his erection firmly.

"Sure you want it this way?"

Danny twists so they can make full eye contact. Reaching out with his clean hand, Roy smooths his fingers over his hair, traces his cheek.

"Right now? Yeah."

At Roy's nod, he drops his head to rest on the pillows again, face turned sideways to watch. He rises off his heels, steadies Danny with a hand on his hip, and slowly pushes in. Unsurprisingly, he has to stop halfway, biting his lip to resist the urge to thrust into the tight heat, rubbing soothing circles on Danny's lower back as he shifts uncomfortably around his cock. 

"Shhh, you're all right. Take your time."

"Fuck. I swear..."

"Wha-?" 

Danny exhales hard and gives a breathless laugh.

"Swear your dick gets bigger when we do this."

Roy tries to smirk, but it ends up as more of a fond smile. Danny wiggles his hips, pushing back until he gasps and clenches down. Hard. 

"...fuck." 

The frustrated groan trails off into a whine. 

"Just let me, my love. Let me have you."

There's no rush, other than their own desire, so he bends down to kiss Danny's shoulders, waiting for his body to accept the stretch. Eventually, the resistance fades as he rocks forward a little at a time. Danny's mewl when he bottoms out goes straight to his balls, and Roy hopes he can last long enough to make this what they both need. 

"Good?"

"You know it is," Danny's voice is slightly muffled by the pillowcase stuffed in his mouth, "now shut up and fuck me, bitch."

The last is said too gently for it to be anything other than Danny's attempt to channel some of the fragile feelings into his usual attitude. Roy rolls his hips carefully, then with increasing confidence as they move together. He molds his torso to Danny’s back, hands roaming freely. Every thrust in is met with Danny pushing back, with a teasing grind searching for that particular spot that will make this even better.

He’s out of practice finding it from this angle.

Danny told him once that being fucked from behind showed off his ass and meant he didn’t have to try to filter his reactions. There's something primal about the position that Roy enjoys when he's feeling particularly assertive, exercising the leverage it gives him to hold Danny's shoulders down or cover his body completely. It's great when they need a fast, satisfying fuck, or something filthy allowing him to keep up a steady stream of obscene narration in Danny's ear when he takes control. Of course the same reason Danny could hide his face also means Roy doesn’t have the pleasure of watching the way his eyes slip half shut or seeing the tiny frown that creases his nose when he’s about to come. (They could fuck in front of a mirror - had, in fact, done so on more than one occasion - but it’s not quite the same.)

Although...

With that in mind, he shifts his hands from where they’re caressing Danny’s ass and sides, sliding them up under his arms and hooking them back over his shoulders.

“...B?”

”I want to try something.”

He eases them both up gently until he can settle on his heels, moving slowly to keep from slipping out. One arm wraps around Danny’s waist, keeping him close. Very slowly, he starts to turn them both.

”...fuck,” Danny gasps, the motion jostling Roy’s cock inside of him, and he pauses in concern. In rapid succession, Danny tenses then goes almost completely limp in his lap, and Roy finds himself supporting most of his weight.

”Angel? S'it hurt?”

“Nuh uhh. S’good,” he slurs, head lolling back on Roy’s shoulder, “right there, I...”

Pressing a kiss to his temple, Roy caresses his chest, fingers gliding over sweat-slick skin. He does his best to ignore the way his cock throbs in that welcoming heat, riding out the urge to roll onto their sides and fuck himself to completion, waiting until Danny’s eyes regain some sense of focus. 

”Welcome back.”

“Mmmm. What're you doing?”

He doesn’t answer Danny’s question, and can feel the curiosity warring with lust in the tension in his shoulders.

”Not done yet.”

”B?”

”Just wanna turn, that’s it, a little more-“

Based on the mewls of pleasure with every exhale, the angle has to be pressing his cock right up against that elusive sweet spot, and he moans at the way Danny squirms on his lap. He could have pulled out - definitely would have been easier and faster - but it would mean moving farther from Danny than he wants right now. 

At last, he’s got them facing the dresser and the mirror over it. 

“Still with me?” Roy murmurs, right hand moving up to cradle Danny’s head. His eyes are shut, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, and Roy takes a moment to simply appreciate the beauty of his face.

“...yeah.”

”Look,” he urges, nudging Danny’s back with his shoulder, “look at us.”

Slowly, Danny raises his head, and their eyes meet in the mirror. An electric jolt runs down his spine at the sight. 

Danny glistens with perspiration, hair clinging to his forehead. His ink is all the more prominent in contrast to the flushed skin around it, the sparse hair on his chest and belly arrowing downwards. Roy can’t control the way his hips thrust upwards as he sees Danny’s erection rising from the dark hair at his groin, swollen and shiny with pre-come leaking down the shaft. He watches, hypnotized, as Danny raises his arm, twisting to the side until he can wrap it around Roy’s shoulders. Danny’s all legs, the height difference negligible otherwise, which means that his wide spread thighs across Roy’s own leave them almost level. The angle is slightly awkward, but he doesn’t care as their mouths meet in a sensual kiss that’s mostly tongue, eyes still locked in their reflection. He curves his hand around Danny’s jaw, fingers sliding on their mingled sweat, not even trying to suppress the throaty growl when Danny bites his lower lip as their mouths break apart.

“Fuck.” 

He barely recognizes his own voice, thick with sex.

Danny lets go of his shoulders, facing the mirror again. Roy’s fingers dance up his inner thigh, cupping his balls and squeezing briefly before wrapping around his straining shaft. He strokes slowly from base to tip over and over, thumb rubbing circles across the weeping slit and reveling in the way it makes Danny’s ass clench around him. All the while, neither of them looks away, indulging in Danny’s love for exhibition and - admittedly his as well - voyeurism. 

It's slow and sweet and filthy, and they should have tried this years ago. Their hips rock in short movements, no real room for him to thrust. It’s hardly the first time he’s pulled Danny up to his lap, but he’s always leaning forward to grip the headboard or bracing his hands on the wall. Unlike other times they’ve fucked in front of a mirror, there’s more than intense lust on display. Something in the way Danny grips his free left hand, how their cheeks press together, right arm raised behind him to grip Roy’s hair, speaks to the _more_ that neither of them can explain. The sheer intimacy of Danny’s back arching against his chest, pulse throbbing in his throat under Roy’s lips, tears that secret place in his chest wide open and he can’t find a good reason to resist.

Eventually though, he can’t sustain the position, back protesting the weight of them both. His hand falls still on Danny’s cock, thumbing the bundle of nerves under the head and nuzzling behind his ear.

“How do you want to come, angel?”

Roy licks at the salty dampness of sweat under his jaw, trying to catch his breath. 

“Mmmmhhhuhh?”

Danny's eyes open fully, dazed and glassy. 

”Want me to suck you off?”

“Nuh uhh. This...s'good.”

Danny going monosyllabic means he's close, and that means they had better switch positions now if Roy wants to satisfy his craving. He eases Danny off his lap, both of them groaning when his erection bounces back against his stomach as it pulls free, nudging him until he’s lying on his back against the pillows. The towel is miraculously still more or less in place, and he tugs it to catch the worst of their mess.

“S’that for? Liked it.”

The signature pout is much less effective when Danny’s sprawled out panting, cock hard and lube slicked over his thighs.

”I wanna watch you come, angel.”

He strokes lightly over the twitching hole, slipping his thumb in briefly just to see the loosened rim flutter. Danny’s burning hot inside, slick and welcoming, and he swallows hard.

"Look at you."

Danny's smile blooms and he holds out his hands, impatient, until Roy moves closer between his legs.

"Fucked me up good?"

"Mmmm. You have no idea..."

He takes another moment to enjoy the view spread out beneath him, then fumbles with the pile of pillows until he finds the right one to slip under Danny’s hips. His cock is too tempting to resist, and Roy gives it a few long strokes with his tongue, pausing to suckle the swollen head. It would be so easy to push him over the edge this way, swallow him down until he comes with his fists anchored in Roy’s hair, but that’s something for another night. 

Pulling off reluctantly, he captures Danny’s mouth again, slippery with the pre-come painting his lips. 

“Ready?”

Instead of answering out loud, Danny lets his legs fall open impossibly wider, thumbing his own nipples and nodding. Roy anchors an arm under his shoulders and carefully pushes back in, swallowing the broken moan in a messy kiss. He keeps his movements shallow at first, until he’s certain he’s not going to blow his load every time he bottoms out. Then he twists just a little to the left on the next thrust, searching...

There. 

Danny’s sudden inhale and slack jaw tell him he’s found that sweet spot. Long arms wind around his torso, fingers digging into Roy's ribs as he angles his hips up to meet every thrust halfway. At this point, they're not so much kissing as gasping into each other's mouths. Danny whines in frustration and he reaches down, hooking his hand below one knee and pushing it back. The move spreads him even further open, and Danny reaches down to start stroking his own cock, desperate for release. 

Roy hikes his leg onto his shoulder, freeing his hand to play with the leaking tip, fingers sliding in the slippery evidence of their pleasure. He uses his nose to nudge Danny's head to the side, until his mouth is right next to his ear, and gasps out seven words. 

"I love you, angel. Come for me."

_Yes._

Danny’s impossibly beautiful when he comes, crying out and unable to keep his eyes open, spilling hot over their joined hands. Roy has to bite his own lip hard, the jolt of discomfort yanking him back from the edge, stops him from coming at the sight and sound, the feel of it. Below, hair soaked with sweat and cheeks burning red, Danny whimpers and shakes as Roy gently fucks him through his orgasm. His other hand slides off Roy’s hip ( _when did that happen?_ ), boneless to the sheets at last.

He lets Danny’s leg fall from his shoulder, leaning down to gather him closer, heedless of the mess between them. Cradling him in his arms, Roy nuzzles his cheek, kissing down the line of his jaw softly until the breathless whines calm into a deeply satisfied hum. He doesn’t pull out just yet, still savoring the aftershocks together.

"Let's-" he has to pause as the words get caught in his dry throat, "let's get you cleaned up."

Slightly shaky himself, Roy sits back on his heels and reaches to the side of the bed, twisting to retrieve the hand towel on the nightstand. He opens one of the bottles of water, pours some on the cloth and wipes away the cum spattered over Danny’s chest and stomach, off his fingers. Then he’s sliding it towards the slick place they’re still connected, lovingly cleaning lube and sweat off his balls, tracing his thumb over the stretched rim of Danny's hole before tossing the towel onto the floor. He bends to place a single kiss on each still-trembling inner thigh. 

Danny breathes out a sigh through his nose at the action, and Roy meets his eyes with a smile. It’s something he always does when they’ve had an intensely sweet session, and tonight is no different.

”Like that?”

”Mmmhmmm.”

Hooking one hand behind Danny’s knee again, Roy starts to withdraw, easing out carefully until a heel digs into his lower back.

”Where you goin'?”

Danny’s voice is husky with post-orgasm lassitude, sated and languorous. Roy has to force down the surge of lust in his balls as Danny clenches down around his still hard cock and squirms a little, clearly trying to check if he's softening. He frowns, gaze sharpening and fingers tightening on Roy’s forearm when it's obvious he's no less achingly hard.

”Did you come?”

Roy stops trying to pull out and goes still, the pressure of Danny’s heel subsiding. 

”I'm fine...”

“Stay.”

The word is scratchy and he coughs, smiling when Roy passes him the open bottle of water. He tries hard to hold still at the wave of _want_ washing over him while he watches Danny’s throat work as he drinks.

"When's it your turn first?"

He shakes his head in response to the rhetorical question, shifting a little uncomfortably. It's not something he can explain. 

Tilting his head to the side, Danny stares at him for the space of a few breaths. Then he tugs on Roy’s shoulders until he thinks he gets the message, lowering himself again until they’re chest to chest, careful not to give Danny his full weight. He pulls up short when Danny squirms underneath him, pushing back up.

”Over.”

Ahh.

Roy rolls them over slowly, holding still for Danny to sort out his legs. Danny breathes out a high-pitched whine of discomfort as they settle together, ass resting on sharp hipbones, and Roy rubs soothing fingers over a trembling thigh. He knows Danny’s body better than his own, which means Roy knows that he has to be a mess of overstimulated nerves.

“You’re too sensitive right now angel, don’t-“

”My turn...to take care of you,” Danny murmurs, and Roy can feel the waves of heat coming off his skin everywhere their bodies touch. The pillowcase is damp under his cheek, and the sheets smell like a heady mix of Danny and sex. “You’re always so- so good to me. M’gonna show you how it...how it feels.”

”You do. You showed me every time, my love," he's veering into dangerously emotional territory, but can't bring himself to care. "We can wait a bit longer. Till you’re not-“

This is turning into one of those nights they'll probably both never speak of outside of bed, yet he can't regret anything he's said. Above him, Danny shakes his head, squeezes Roy’s hips between his knees. Olive and copper eyes open, filled with determination but also something softer, deeper. Kiss-bitten lips curve in an impish smile that should be out of place, and Roy matches it automatically. 

“What...?”

Danny squirms, contracting around Roy’s cock as he does. He’s vaguely aware of that smile dissolving into sensual giggles as the view of Danny’s face swims out of focus and his jaw goes slack with pleasure.

“M’not...mmmmppphhh, not as old as you are, m’good to go again.”

”You’re- fuck, do that again.”

”-this?”

His hands clamp down on rocking hips, fingers digging into firm round cheeks as Danny does _something_ that makes his eyes glaze over again.

”You just told me to keep doing that, now you want me to stop?”

He'd glare, but all of his higher functions short circuit when Danny flexes his ass and begins to bounce. Instead, he raises his chin and tips his head to the side again, exposing the purpling love bite. Danny lifts his hands off his hips, lacing their fingers together and pressing them back against the sheets to either side of Roy's head. He licks over the marks on Roy's throat, arms straining and breath coming shorter with every second. 

"Fuck...so- fuck, so good. Like that?”

Danny jokes that the only time Bianca ever shuts up is when they're fucking, and he's not wrong. Roy couldn't speak if he tried, barely able to hold onto his control and suppress the urge to come. The pressure at the base of his spine grows steadily every time Danny fucks himself down on his cock. He can just glimpse their reflection over Danny’s shoulder, the curve of Danny’s back and wide spread legs as he rides him. It's almost too much. 

Danny lets go of his hands to cradle Roy’s head, resting their foreheads together.

”Close?”

He nods, words at last forcing their way out.

”...oh fuck, angel...you’re gonna, I’m- you’re- you...m’gonna come-“

”Come for me, baby. I've got you, just let go."

He breathes in Danny’s exhale, and gives up trying to hold it back. Roy’s fairly sure that his mouth is forming words, but all that makes it past his lips is a breathless whimper. Wave after wave of orgasm rolls through him, hips jerking uncontrollably and toes curled. All the while, Danny watches him with an indescribable look, the hint of a smile on his lips and thumb stroking over his cheek.

 _Yes._

As they come down, Danny’s hand finds Roy’s again.Despite the intimacy of their bodies sprawled over each other and what they’ve just done, this one gesture means more.

This isn’t goodbye sex or a breakup fuck or one last time. 

This isn’t A Relationship and it’s also not Not A Relationship.

This is them with all of their cards on the table, even if they don’t even understand themselves.

This is them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry it took so long to get this posted. It’s been difficult to stay focused due to RL stuff (and the complete lack of Biadore actually taking place), and I had to be in the right mindset to edit. Two more chapters to go.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after. Quiet voices, a few apologies, and coming to terms with each other.

They've slept in far later than usual, nearly dawn when they finished cleaning up and turned off the light. Hints of sun and street noise sneak in between the closed shutters, but otherwise Roy’s bedroom is cloaked in shadows and stillness.

He shifts against the pillows, eyes fluttering open slowly. Danny is a comfortable weight, the arm usually flung casually over his chest wrapped firmly around his torso. Instead of a starfish sprawl forcing Roy to the edge of the mattress, Danny’s pressed tight to his side, curled against him from neck to knees. One leg is thrown over his thighs, foot resting on his shin. It’s a far from unpleasant way to wake up. 

Danny’s an unrepentant cuddler, but there's something subtly unsettled even in slumber. He’s frowning a little, brow creased where Roy can just see his forehead past the tip of his own nose. Hand still clumsy with sleep, he brushes a thumb over the lines, carefully smoothing them out. The movement must tickle, because Danny scrunches up his nose and stirs, fingers flexing in the vulnerable space below Roy’s ribs.

The murmur turns into a content purr when he slips his fingers into Danny’s hair and scratches gently.

“Morning angel.”

He expects Danny to straighten and stretch, the same way he does every morning. Surprisingly, he does neither, rubbing his cheek on Roy’s shoulder with a sleepy noise and staying close. 

“B.”

”Mmmhmmm. How you feeling?”

“Tired. Sore.”

A huge yawn accompanies the reply, and Roy chuckles quietly. His own back and hips are twinging every time he moves.

”Me too.”

He twists a little, trying to shift Danny off. Predictably, the arm and leg around him tighten.

”Nuh uhh, m’comfy. Stay.”

”Anyone ever tell you you sound like a three year-old?”

”You do,” Danny mutters into his collarbone, “all the time.”

“Queen, I need to pee. I’ll be right back.”

At last Danny relents, reclaiming his limbs and rolling onto his back with a grumpy huff. Roy kisses his forehead and heads towards the en-suite. He can feel eyes on his back and glances over his shoulder just before the threshold, expecting to find Danny leering at his ass. Instead, he's taken slightly aback by the sweet smile he receives, Danny's expression open and affectionate.

When he returns after taking care of business and brushing his teeth, Danny is waiting impatiently, half of his face buried in Roy's pillow. He kicks the covers down and holds out a hand, tugging until Roy is seated against the headboard and snuggling up to his side. 

"Hey," he complains when Roy turns his head so that Danny's kiss lands on his cheek, "what's that for?"

"Not till you brush your teeth."

Danny narrows his eyes, then grips the back of Roy's head and pulls him into a firm kiss with just a hint of tongue. It's surprisingly minty, and Roy relaxes into it.

"You have two bathrooms," Danny reminds him when they separate.

He pulls Danny's head to rest against his chest and they lapse into silence, watching each other in the mirror. Idle fingers wander over his collarbone, stopping at the side of his neck.

"Sorry."

"What for?"

Danny taps the love bite once.

"That."

Roy sits up a little more, turning so he can get a better view of it in the morning light. He runs his own fingers over it, wincing at the slight soreness and tracing the outline. It's about the size of a half-dollar, edges mottled and gone gloriously purple in the center. There's a scattering of other marks painted over his chest, but this one is going to be obvious from twenty feet away. He's not sure even Bianca's full coverage foundation would completely conceal it, and it'll be be readily visible out of drag unless he wears a scarf. 

It's obnoxious, and Roy loves it.

"I...I don't expect you to make a big deal about it. Us, I mean. What we're doing."

He scoots back down, pulling Danny with him until they're on their sides, sharing a pillow.

"No, but I also don't think I realized how much it upset you."

"You shouldn't have let me just because-"

Roy cuts him off with a look.

"I wanted you to." 

Danny purses his lips, thumb stroking the mark.

"You know where I went?"

It’s a sudden change of subject, and Roy blinks a few times while he tries to catch up to where Danny's mind has gone. 

"After we...when I left."

Ahh. His head had been filled with scenarios, everything from Danny going back home to finding a bar or finding company for mindless release. The answer is of course no, and it's probably obvious from the expression on his face.

"Remember when Court said she sat down in the gutter and like realized things?"

Roy nods, curious where it's going. 

"I did that. There's this...I dunno how to describe it. My mind wants things, but they don't make sense with each other. I was so mad at myself for not being able to say what I meant, cuz I didn't actually know what it was. And like, you were being- you kept saying you were okay with it when I said shit that was really bad. And I got mad that you let me do that to you."

He said more or less the same thing before, but it feels important, like Danny’s walking himself through a memory, gaze unfocused. Danny's internal conflict isn't anything new. Roy hopes that he's not going to pull in their - _argument_ seems too mild of a term, but he doesn't have a better word for it - last night into a cycle of self-blame. On the other hand, if he tries to stop him now, it's only going to make it worse.

“I hurt you,” Roy’s voice is soft, “by not...not saying I wanted you to, to not...that I wouldn’t fight for you.”

Danny shakes his head emphatically.

”B...I- I was being a dumb fuck. You don’t have to fight for me,” he squeezes Roy’s hands hard, “cuz you already do. When you look out for me and let me fuck up so I learn, and when you tell me shit no one else will. I shouldn’t have gone there.”

"...if you were feeling it, it needed to be said."

He exhales hard, voice wavering but unbroken. 

“I don’t know how it’d change us. If I. Loved someone back when they love me, for real. If it was all that, in a- a relationship. And you’re gonna tell me that you want me to do what I want, that you trust me. And fuck, that’s it. You trust me and sometimes...sometimes I think you shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Danny bites his lip and shakes his head, rubbing his hand over eyes gone red with contained emotion.

”You’ve got like the biggest heart of anyone in the world. S’not the same as-“ he swallows convulsively, “as anyone else. And I was scared if I. If I did, and I...And I do...if you trusted me and I hurt you because of it.”

There isn't anything he can say to that that hasn't already been said, and it doesn't sound like Danny's looking for an answer, more that he has to get it out of his system. The praise feels unearned - he's doing what's right when it comes to the people he cares about, regardless of the outcome. Especially Danny.

Instead of speaking, he tips their foreheads together and watches Danny watch him. It’s quiet and still, just the two of them breathing each other in. This close he can count the freckles dusted over the bridge of his nose, pick out individual copper-gold flecks in the kaleidoscope of his irises. 

“I’m still gonna do it.”

Danny’s voice is quiet, non confrontational, breathed into the stillness around them.

“You've got a contract, so-“

”That’s not why.”

Danny pushes himself up on one elbow, head propped on his hand. The pillowcase has done a number on his hair, static crackling and falling forward to cover one eye.

Roy waits.

”I mean yeah, business and like I’m not gonna pull out of it. But I mean...I need to. Find out.”

He’s playing with the edge of the sheet, hiding behind his hair to avoid making eye contact. Roy reaches up, matter of factly pushing it out of Danny’s face.

”I know.”

“It might not even be him.”

”...what?”

”They asked for all my exes. Like...yeah.”

Roy inhales slowly, considering.

”Including...?”

Danny bites his lip, looking down but not away when Roy ducks his chin to make eye contact.

”Guys I just dated.”

”Ahhh. I can’t imagine it’ll be boring.”

”What do you mean? They’re all sorta the same, so I dunno which one they’ll pick.”

”Tatted up and pierced?”

”I was gonna say dickheads, but that’s true too.”

“I suppose that leaves me out by default, since I’m just a cunt.”

The words are automatic, light and thoughtless, but Danny sighs. Roy knows he’s nowhere near Danny’s usual type, comment during Untucked about him resembling a guy he used to date notwithstanding.

“You’re not-“

”I know what you meant. We’re- we’ve never dated.”

”Not that way.”

”I- I’m sorry I didn’t. Tell you that it might not be Kristian. I...we could have not. Last night, I mean.”

Oh.

Last night’s bitter confusion has passed, thankfully, and Roy isn’t sure when he’s been more grateful. He studies Danny’s face, seeing traces of guilt and self-blame.

”Hey, quit that.”

”S’my fault-“

Roy cuts him off with a kiss, brushes his lips over the corner of Danny’s mouth before settling down again on the pillow, nose to nose.

”We- it needed to be said. All of it, even us being cunty. I’m not mad.”

“What if, like...what if I wanna give one of them. Give them another chance.”

”To be with you? They’d have to be dumb fucks not to want it.”

”B...”

He lets the thought sink in, feels it settle in his stomach. He knows Danny’s tried to have relationships that didn’t quite make it to the level that the one did, knows how they played out and ended. Hell, he’d even met one of them, although the guy had seemed uncomfortable with Danny hanging off Roy’s neck at the club to take Instagram selfies. Regardless, he thinks about what Danny’s said, clears his mind and just tries to feel his own reaction. Weighs the possessive protectiveness against their inexplicable connection and years of friendship. When he’s sure he’s being honest with himself, when he realizes what Danny is afraid of, he speaks.

”What did I tell you? Your decisions, pussyface. If you want to see if it works, if it would make you happy? That’s what I care about. I’m not- this,” he pulls their hands up between their chests, “the important part of this isn’t changing. No matter what you’re up to. Or who. Okay?”

Danny's blinking rapidly although it doesn’t look like he’s about to cry. He looses one hand, bringing it up to curve around Roy’s jaw.

”I...”

Roy closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. Breathes in the smell of Danny’s skin and the faintest musk of morning-after sweat. Breathes in them.

“Adore.”

”Yeah?”

”It’s okay.”

Danny nods.

”I love you.”

The words are quiet, serious, and Roy smiles at the undercurrent that’s always been there.

”I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started the story long before anyone knew *which* ex(es) would be appearing, but at the time assumed it to be the only one that Danny has referred to as his boyfriend. Since then, articles and the show itself have proven otherwise. Adding in the bit about Danny admitting he doesn’t know for sure which one is going to show up felt right at this point, and I hope it works for the reader as well.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place either a few weeks or a few months (depending on when you think Adore agreed to go on the show) after that night, while Roy’s on the road / performing in Jamie.

“Don’t go running off with someone without telling me, you hear me?”

It’s meant as a throwaway line, a quip, but it catches in his throat on the way out and trails off weakly. He tries to laugh, but his mouth is too dry and there’s just the sound of them breathing across thousands of miles.

Danny’s voice is solemn when he speaks.

”I’ll always come back.”

 _To you_ is unspoken, and something that’s been twisted up in Roy’s chest loosens. 

“Even if, it might be...I dunno, I just...how are you- even if I don’t, I will.”

The jumble of words themselves is unclear, but he knows what Danny can’t seem to say.

“You’ve got me for life, pussyface.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These 8 lines have been waiting since last summer to be posted. I already knew where the story was going then, just had to figure out how to get it there.
> 
> One more chapter to go.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make it a full 40k words, but didn't quite get there.

Roy’s awakened from a deep (slightly drunken) sleep by what sounds like the electronic whir of the card reader. If it’s a robber, they’re going to be sorely disappointed that all there is to be had are wigs and dresses. He peels one eye open, peering into the darkness, but gives back in to the pull of slumber moments later, chalking it up to his brain running on exhaustion. He's getting too old to keep up with late nights (not that he's willing to admit that to anyone). 

The quiet click of the room door closing brings him back to full consciousness. Roy freezes, wide awake, heart picking up a staccato beat. There’s no mistaking the presence of someone else in the room. 

He tries to regulate his own breathing, calculating the distance between the bed and nightstand and whether he can grab his phone (how is he going to dial for help unseen?) or make it to the door before being caught. 

A sigh. He listens intently, hearing a zipper slide open and fabric hitting the floor, followed by bare feet padding over the carpet. Then there’s a soft thud, like a body making contact with the open suitcase hanging off the end of the bed, accompanied by a mumbled curse. The air shifts, displaced by movement, bringing with it the smell of cigarette smoke and airplanes and something else that tells his body to relax. 

Seemingly impossible, he should still be filming, but...

“Pussyface?”

”It’s me.”

He can hear the smile in Danny’s voice. The bed shifts as someone climbs in behind him.

”You’re back.”

An arm snakes across his chest to pull him against a familiar warm body.

“Mmmhmmm.”

”You didn’t stay-“

 _With him_ hangs in the air between them, and Roy cringes, tenses, afraid he’s shattered the stillness.

“No.”

”I.....”

”Shhhh. Go back to sleep, baby. C’n talk-“ Danny’s interrupted by a yawn, “-n the morning. M’not gonna...I’m here.”

Something blooms inside his chest, golden and soft. 

Danny settles in, snuggling up until there’s no space at all between them, molding their bodies together. His cold toes press against Roy’s ankles, underarm hair feathering across his bicep as he's pulled in closer. Lips brush over his ear, breath tickling the short hairs at the back of his neck when Danny nuzzles him, inhaling deeply.

"You let your hair grow."

He ignores the noise of protest when he squirms until Danny loosens his arm enough that he can twist halfway around. There’s just enough light stealing past the curtains to make out the way his sleepy eyes are shining with contented affection.

“I really missed you.”

Danny captures his lips in an undemanding kiss, humming in satisfaction. 

"You still...” he whispers into the darkness, “like...I wasn't sure if-?"

Roy reaches up to smooth back the hair from Danny’s face, shaking his head in mock despair at the tangle of blond extensions.

"Still what?" 

Danny's fingers flex on his chest as if cupping the heartbeat beneath them. 

“I remembered.”

”Hmmm?”

He’s not sure exactly what he’s referring to, but that part seems less important than the familiar way Danny hooks his foot over Roy’s shin.

”You still do- what you said. That night.”

"Pussyface?"

"You left me a key."

Roy closes his eyes for a moment, remembering that long night months ago. Maybe someday it will change (unlikely), but he really can't imagine a time when Danny isn't welcome. It's a metaphor for something larger, and they both know it.

”Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've finally come to the end of this epic story. Thank you to everyone who joined me for the journey, through months of editing and re-writing and the lack of RL interactions that fuel my inspiration. 
> 
> Canon-compliant is my thing, and I'm not sure where they two of them are at, but I like to think that they have an understanding with each other no matter what, and I hope that came through here.


End file.
